


Always Be Batman

by covarla



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, No Alpha Pack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covarla/pseuds/covarla
Summary: Stiles was tired of being the one looked at with pity.  He was tired of waiting for Scott or Derek to come save the day and rescue him. Just once he wanted to be able to save himself. It was about time for him to be Batman goddammit.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scales-not-skin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=scales-not-skin).



> Always be yourself, unless you can be Batman. Then, always be Batman.
> 
> Sorry that this isn't fully complete. Will be cranking the rest of this out asap and will post as soon as it's beta'd. If there's anything in particular you are hoping to see in the upcoming chapters, feel free to comment and I'll try to work it in.

Stiles groaned when he heard the door click shut behind Gerard, leaving him lying on the basement floor. And wasn’t that just another insult piled on top of his now plentiful injuries. Not only had he had his ass handed to him by an old man, but he wasn’t even seen as enough of a threat to need to be tied up afterwards. Gerard just left him lying broken on the floor to be picked up and dumped later. The wounded sidekick left as a message to the hero. He’s just the Jason Todd to Gerard’s Joker… Which, maybe not an accurate metaphor, because thankfully Gerard didn’t kill him. And, if he was being honest, Stiles hurt too much to move, so maybe things were going according to Gerard’s plan. Except, Gerard hadn’t expected to be interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up to the house. Which meant that Chris Argent was home and maybe Chris wasn’t supposed to know about Stiles being down here… 

A sound from across the room drew Stiles’s attention away from the half-heard voices upstairs. He bit back a hiss of pain as he turned to look at Boyd and Erica where they dangled from their electrified chains. Stiles met Erica’s gaze. Her mouth was still taped, but she tried to talk. He couldn’t tell what she was trying to say, but he could guess. Her eyes said enough. Erica looked at him with a mixture of worry and pity. It was the look of someone who had lost all hope of being rescued.

He closed his eyes against that look and let his head fall forward to rest against the cool concrete floor. Stiles was tired of being the one looked at with pity. He was tired of waiting for Scott or Derek to come save the day and rescue him. Just once he wanted to be able to save himself. It was about time for him to be Batman goddammit.

Stiles forced his good arm to slide forward across the concrete. He managed to lift his head up with a bit of effort, though his ribs protested the movement. Stiles pressed his finger into the split in his lip, gathering up a bit of blood on his fingertip. He gritted his teeth as he twisted his body to reach his other arm, which felt like it might be broken. With shaking fingers, he carefully traced a rune on his skin, as close to the break as he could manage. Then, he closed his eyes and focused his will. He felt magic surge up into his arm and the pain ebbed. He pressed his finger to his lip again, drawing a little more blood so that he could draw the same rune over his most likely broken ribs. His magic kicked in instantaneously. 

Suddenly, he could breathe again. He took a minute to savor the relief before forcing himself up on his forearms. His arm still hurt, but it was a manageable level of pain now. Stiles used his good arm to push himself to his feet. He had to brace himself against the wall for a second as a wave of dizziness washed over him, but that passed quickly enough. His magic rushed through his body to heal him with each breath.

He scanned the room, following the path of the wires from Boyd and Erica’s chains across the room to a table on the far side. Slowly, Stiles hobbled his way across the room, moving as quickly as his still healing body would allow. The room wavered a bit in another flash of dizziness. He felt his body start to tilt towards the floor. Stiles forced himself to take a second to breathe even though he wanted to just run across the room. He wasn’t going to save anyone if he passed out flat on his face. Once the dizziness passed, he was able to make it the final few steps to the table. Then, it was a simple flick of the dial to cut the electricity.

Boyd and Erica sagged with relief almost instantaneously. He didn’t know how long Gerard had had them down here in his torture basement, but it was definitely too long. Stiles made his way around the table with a bit of effort. “Sorry,” he mumbled, before quickly pulling the tape off of Boyd and Erica’s mouths in one swift move. 

“The fuck was that Stiles?” Erica hissed. “What did you do?”

“Magic.” Stiles didn’t waste any more time with explanations. Instead, he reached up to start to pull at Erica’s bonds. His ribs still hurt like a bitch, despite his magic doing its work. The pain made his fingers tremble as he unknotted the wires and chains. His fingers kept fumbling with the rubbery coverings and his nerves weren’t making things any better. 

“Stiles!” Erica’s shout drew his attention away from his fumbling. He spun around, wobbling and catching himself on the table to keep his balance. Across the room the door opened and a figure appeared on the stairs. Stiles took a step to the side, keeping the table between himself and Gerard.

“Well,” Gerard said, an unpleasant smile spreading on his face, “you’re more resilient than I expected, Mr. Stilinski.” Gerard started forward across the room.

Stiles brushed his thumb across the scrape on his cheek, gathering up the blood there, and quickly traced a series of runes onto the tabletop. He gathered his breath and let it out in a burst with his magic as he slapped his palm down on the runes. 

“Help!” 

The word rang through the house like it had been amplified by a dozen speakers, rattling the walls and windows with its force. Behind him Erica and Boyd yelped in pain while in front of him Gerard reeled back. Gerard recovered from the shock quicker than Stiles would have liked, though. His smile was gone now, replaced by a fury that did not bode well for Stiles. Fear threatened to make Stiles’s knees sag. Stiles leaned more of his weight on the table, making sure his hand stayed in contact with the runes. Gerard stalked forward only to be stopped by a wall of force.

“Witch.” Gerard spat out the word with almost the same amount of contempt he showed for werewolves. “You’re young, barely trained.” Gerard pressed against the barrier. “You don’t have the power to hold a barrier like this for long.”

Gerard was right. His magic was already stretched trying to heal his broken bones. Throwing more spells on top of that was probably not a good idea, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to hold the barrier long. He slumped down on his knees as the magic drained from him far too quickly. Behind him, Erica called his name, but he refused to turn to look. Instead, he kept his focus on Gerard and the barrier and the staircase…

Feet appeared at the top of the stairs, running quickly downwards. Stiles sent up a prayer of thanks to every deity he could think of as Chris and Allison came charging down into the basement. “Gerard?” “Grandpa?” 

Chris looked resigned as he took in the scene in the basement, but Allison… She looked shocked. Not to see Erica and Boyd. Apparently she knew they were down here, but she was surprised to see Stiles. Her eyes widened with horror. “Stiles? What happened?” Allison's gaze started to trail over towards the werewolves as if she suspected they were somehow involved and Stiles had to wonder exactly how brainwashed Gerard had her. 

Whatever Allison was going to say was cut off by Stiles’s bitter laugh. “What happened?” His voice was raspy as he repeated her words back at her. “Your grandfather happened.” He laughed again at the look of confusion on her face. “Scotty-boy didn’t act like a good little puppet, so your grandfather decided to beat the crap out of me and then planned to toss me in a ditch somewhere as a message.”

“Listen here, boy,” Gerard began as he pushed forward against the barrier again. Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by Allison shouting at him. She raced forward to place herself between Gerard and Stiles. Their voices rose as they argued, but Stiles was too tired to be able to make much of it out. His vision was starting to grow spotty. He wasn’t going to be able to hold the barrier for much longer. 

“Enough!” Chris’s voice cut through the chaos. The gun in his hand also helped emphasize his point. “Gerard, I think it’s time for you to leave town. Take your things and get out.”

Gerard’s face was murderous, but even he couldn’t argue with a loaded gun. Chris kept the gun trailed on Gerard, even following him up the stairs. Stiles followed the sound of their footsteps on the floor above. He thought he heard shouting, but it was too distant for him to make out. Then, the house was quiet for a long time. Stiles let his head sag down to rest against his arm where it stretched across the table to touch the runes. He was so damned tired. His eyes drifted closed. Movement across the room startled him back into alertness. Chris's footsteps were heavy as he came back down the stairs. Allison apparently hadn’t moved. She stared into the distance, looking confused and lost.

“Stiles, he’s gone. Please drop the barrier.” Chris’s voice was gentler than Stiles had ever heard the man before. Stiles supposed this must be what Chris was like as a father, not as a Hunter.

It took a bit of effort, but Stiles managed to get his hand to twitch away from the runes. As soon as he lost contact with the markings, his magic cut off. The barrier dropped. Chris rushing forward seemed to be the jolt Allison needed to come back to herself because she shook herself off and was at Stiles's side a moment later. Together she and Chris lifted Stiles up, supporting his weight between them as they started towards the basement steps. Moving hurt. His magic wasn’t healing him any longer, making him acutely aware of all the bruises he would have soon enough. But, at least his bones weren’t broken anymore. 

Stiles managed to gather a bit of strength now that his magic wasn’t taking it all. He pushed away from Allison and Chris before they could reach the stairs. Stiles stumbled, hitting a wall hard enough to jar his ribs and draw out a hiss of pain. Allison and Chris moved toward him again, but Stiles held up his hand. “No,” he said firmly. He was met with matching expressions of surprise. Stiles raised a shaking arm and pointed back at Boyd and Erica. “I’m not going anywhere without them.”

Chris and Allison looked at each other and there was a moment of silent conversation between them. Allison looked stubborn for a moment, but then her gaze drifted to Stiles and then over to Boyd and Erica. She nodded. Together they untied the werewolves from the wires.

“You know,” Chris began, “my family’s done this for a long time.” Stiles raised an eyebrow at him from across the room, but the man didn’t even glance back at him. Chris didn’t seem to be addressing anyone in particular. “Long enough to learn things like how a certain level of electric current can keep you from transforming.” He looked at Boyd then, even as he continued to unwind the wires and chains. “At another level, you can’t heal. A few amps higher, and no heightened strength. That kind of scientific accuracy… It makes you wonder where the line between the natural and the supernatural really exists. It’s when lines like that blur… You sometimes find yourself surprised by which side you end up on.” Chris looked over at Allison then. She looked guilty and wasn’t able to meet his gaze. 

As soon as Boyd and Erica were free, they rushed over to Stiles, crowding into his space and supporting his weight. Stiles closed his eyes for a second to enjoy the rush of relief. He blinked his eyes open a moment later and turned to look at Chris. “Do you think you could give me a ride back to my Jeep?”

Chris shook his head, but started forward. “I think I should take you to the hospital instead, Stiles.”

Stiles made a dismissive noise. “I’m fine,” he started to object, only to cut off his words in a hiss of pain when Erica poked him in the ribs. He shot her an offended look. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow in return. Erica did not look like she was willing to argue. Stiles sighed. “Fine. We can go to the hospital.” 

Chris led the way up the stairs with Erica and Boyd helping support Stiles and Allison trailing quietly behind them. Stiles was relieved to see that Gerard and his goons really were gone. The house was empty. Still, it was even more of a relief to get outside. Stiles took a deep breath of the fresh air as he hobbled his way towards Chris’s SUV. 

“Allison, stay here,” Chris called over his shoulder as he opened the door to the backseat so that Boyd could climb in.

“Dad,” Allison started to protest, but was cut off as Chris physically steered her back towards the house and out of hearing range. Or at least, out of Stiles’s range. If the others were listening, they didn’t give any indication of it. Instead Erica and Boyd practically lifted him into the vehicle. Erica slid in after him and shut the door. 

Stiles fished around for the seatbelt with his good hand before Erica batted him away. “I’m not a complete invalid,” he grumbled.

Erica rolled her eyes. “No, but you just had several bones broken. Give your body a rest.” She passed the buckle to Boyd who secured Stiles in before the two werewolves buckled themselves in.

“So…” Stiles glanced over at where Chris and Allison were still arguing in the doorway to the house. “I take it this means that you’re staying?” Stiles powered on when Erica flinched. “Because I, for one, am totally cool with that. I mean, it was rather brave of you two to set out for a different pack, but let me tell you, I’ve done my research and there really isn’t another one nearby. I think there might be one in the next town over, but I haven’t quite managed to get confirmation, so if you really want to go then I could probably point you in their direction, but…. Staying’s not so bad too, you know? I mean, school sucks, but you have a pack now, so maybe it’ll suck a bit less. And we’re all sort of friends now, right? So, there’s that... And Derek may not be the best Alpha, but he’s not the worst either and he’s trying. He’s a bit of a work in progress and he really needs to get a better place to live…”

“Stiles!” Erica interrupted, clapping a hand over his mouth to cut off his stream of words. She laughed when he went cross-eyed blinking down at her hand. Erica pulled her hand away as she continued. “Yeah, I think we’ll stick around for a little bit.” 

Stiles grinned at her. “Yay!” He threw up his arms only to remember his injuries too late. He cursed and curled into himself as everything flared with pain. “Oww.”

He jumped when a car door shut. Chris looked over his shoulder at them. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Stiles muttered. He forced himself to sit up straight again. Stiles concentrated on breathing evenly as the pain slowly receded.

Chris hesitated, but eventually started the SUV. They drove in merciful silence. Chris was a very efficient driver, not taking any unnecessary sharp turns and thankfully avoiding any large bumps. Boyd and Erica were warm presences on either side of him, bracing him as best they could. Soon enough the hospital was in sight. Stiles was really looking forward to getting some of the good drugs. Chris pulled up at the curb just out of sight of the hospital entrance, and most likely their security cameras as well. “Do you think you can make it from here?” 

Stiles started to nod, and then thought better of the motion when his vision swam. “Yeah,” he said. “We’ll be fine. Thanks for the lift.” He flailed at the seatbelt until it released, then nudged Erica to open the door. 

Climbing out of the car was a much more painful experience than getting in, but he managed without falling flat on his face. Once again Boyd and Erica each slipped under one of his arms, supporting most of his weight as they shuffled towards the brightly lit hospital entrance. After a couple of steps they actually managed a sort of rhythm. They could totally win a three-legged, or well a five-legged, race if the opportunity ever presented itself. 

The night was quiet, but as soon as they stepped through the double doors into the emergency room there was noise everywhere. All three of them flinched at the sounds. There was a baby crying in the waiting room and two women screaming at each other off in a corner with a nurse trying to separate them. Add to that all the random equipment beeping and people talking and TVs playing to try and distract people from their pain…

“Stiles!”

One voice cut through all of the chaos and Stiles sagged with relief. He looked up as Melissa came running down the hall with a deputy following after her. And, yeah, he probably should have guessed that his dad would have people out looking for him. The deputy already had his radio out.

“Stiles, what happened?” Melissa asked as she reached him. She took hold of his chin, gently tilting his face up to get a look at the scrapes and bruises there. “Nevermind.” She let go of him and headed over to a bank of wheelchairs. Melissa gave him a no-nonsense look until he sank down in the chair. Then she started wheeling him down the hall, with a detour to the front desk to snag a clip board and some forms. Melissa wheeled him to a section of curtained off beds away from the main waiting area. The deputy trailed behind them at a slower pace while talking to someone on the radio. He lingered just outside of the little alcove, giving them the illusion of privacy. 

Stiles looked at the bed with a bit of trepidation, but then Boyd easily picked him up by the waist and set him down on the thing. “Thanks,” Stiles said softly. Boyd gave him a little half-smile before settling down in the chair set against the wall beside the bed. Erica didn’t waste a moment before perching on Boyd’s lap.

Melissa looked up from where she was filling out the forms to glance over at Stiles. “Okay,” she said, letting out her breath in a long sigh. “It’s been kind of a weird night, but this… This I can deal with.” She smiled at him and started checking his vitals. Melissa glanced over at Boyd and Erica before looking at Stiles suspiciously. “Are they…”

“Werewolves?” Stiles whispered, causing her to shush him and glance back towards where the deputy was waiting. Stiles nodded. Melissa glanced over at the others again. Erica smiled and gave a little wave. 

“Are there any injuries that might be suspicious if the doctor saw?” Melissa asked softly.

Stiles shook his head, and then paused. “Actually…” He lifted up his sleeve and yup, the rune marking was still there, though he didn’t think it was still drawing any magic. Mostly because he didn’t really have much magic left for it to draw from. “Should probably get rid of these.”

Melissa swore under her breath. She quickly walked over to a sink and wet some paper towels before shoving them at him. “What happened?” she asked softly. She held up a finger when he opened his mouth. “What really happened, not what you’re going to tell the deputies.”

“Gerard,” Stiles whispered back. He lifted up his shirt and wiped away the rune along his ribs, tossing the paper towels in the garbage once he was done. Before he had a chance to say more, he heard a commotion down the hallway. He looked towards the sound and then suddenly his dad was there, framed in the doorway.

“Stiles.” Noah breathed out the word on a puff of relief. 

“I’m okay, dad.” Stiles saw the moment when his dad noticed the bruise on his face and then his father’s eyes travelled over to Stiles’s split lip and down to his arm, which he was holding close to his chest to brace it. Noah started to rush forward. “It’s okay,” Stiles tried again, hoping to reassure his father even though he was the one hurt. 

Noah gently cupped the back of Stiles’s neck, tilting his head up a little to get a better look at the bruising. “Who did it?”

“It’s okay,” Stiles repeated softly. He reached out with his good arm and rested a hand on his father’s shoulder. “It was just a couple kids from the other team. I never even saw their faces.” He looked away, feeling suddenly guilty about lying to the man when he was so obviously worried. “They said something about being pissed about losing…” Stiles shrugged.

“Who was it?” Noah insisted. Stiles could practically feel the need to do something radiating from the man. 

“Dad, I don’t know,” Stiles interrupted Noah before he could start asking more questions. “I didn’t even really see them.”

“I want descriptions,” Noah said. His hands started patting his pockets before he realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform. 

“Look, Dad, come on. It’s not even that bad.” Stiles looked over at Melissa for support.

Melissa just raised an unsympathetic eyebrow at him, but smoothed her features to something much more soothing when Noah turned to look at her as well. “The doctor hasn’t had a chance to look at him yet. We’re probably going to want to send him for some scans to make sure nothing’s broken, but he’ll be okay.”

For one moment Noah stared at her and then back at Stiles, probably picturing the worst possible results. Before Stiles could do more than open his mouth, Noah was moving again. “I’m calling that school,” he declared, pointing his finger off in the vague direction of the building. “I’m calling them and I’ll personally go down there, and I’m gonna pistol-whip these little bastards!”

“Dad!” Stiles leaned forward on the bed and probably would have toppled forward if not for Erica’s quick reflexes. She pushed him back until he was more steadily seated then resumed her seat on Boyd’s lap. “I just…” Stiles trailed off, unsure of what to say now that he actually had Noah’s attention. “I said I was okay.”

Noah floundered for one moment before the fight went out of him. “God,” he muttered, before surging forward and wrapping Stiles in a hug that was a bit painful, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to say anything. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of his dad’s cologne. He opened his eyes again when his dad pulled away. It was then that his dad turned to the other two people in their little alcove. “Who are you two?”

“Uhh…” Stiles blinked at the others and then turned to his father. “Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes,” he said with a small wave of his hand in their direction. “They go to my school. They helped me get to the hospital.”

Noah nodded slowly. He blinked and looked at the others. “The two runaways?” 

Erica gave him an awkward smile and a little wave while Boyd remained as expressionless as always. “We came back,” she said with a shrug.

Noah ran a hand down his face. He glanced between Stiles and Erica. “I’m going to have to call your parents,” he said. Thankfully any more awkwardness was cut off by the appearance of the doctor. Stiles waved goodbye to Boyd and Erica as they trailed after his father before the curtain was drawn and he was being prompted to change for the first round of tests.

*************

When he finally pulled his slightly dented Jeep up to his house, it felt like years had passed instead of only a couple of hours. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that after the hell of a night that he’d had, Stiles would still have to save the day by driving his Jeep through a warehouse wall to help Lydia declare her true love to Jackson. But in the end, he put everyone else ahead of himself again.

The house was quiet when he let himself in. His dad’s cruiser was gone, so he assumed he’d been called back to work, probably dealing with Boyd and Erica’s parents. Stiles hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen. He had never actually eaten dinner, but the thought of food was kind of revolting and he was too tired and sore to cook anything anyways. Instead he trudged up the stairs and straight into the bathroom. He shed his clothes as soon as the door was closed. The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles. It was nice to finally wash away all the traces of Gerard’s basement and the hospital and the warehouse. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned against the cool tiles. It felt like he could finally relax. Stiles allowed himself another minute of soaking before he turned the water off. He moved slowly as he toweled himself dry, careful of his numerous bruises. He wrapped a towel around his waist and wandered across the hall to his room. 

Stiles stopped short in the doorway to his room. “What are you doing here?”

Peter Hale looked up from where he was leafing through the books on Stiles’s desk. He smiled when he saw Stiles. “Why Stiles,” Peter said in a purr that made Stiles self-consciously cross his arms over his naked chest. “I’m here to check on you.”

Of all the wolves Stiles would have expected to check up on him, Peter Hale was not even on the list. Scott should have been the one to come, but he hadn't even seemed to notice Stiles was hurt. Maybe Derek. Or Boyd and Erica since they’d apparently bonded now. Hell, until a few hours ago he hadn't even known that Peter was still alive… Alive again? Stiles shook his head and headed over to his dresser. He quickly pulled on boxers and a pair of sweatpants before tossing the towel towards his hamper. He turned to look at Peter again. “Well, I’m fine, so either cut the crap and get your revenge so that we can get that over with or leave.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. He took a step forward and Stiles tensed. “I hear you are responsible for returning Derek’s missing betas.”

Stiles blinked. That was not the direction he had expected the conversation to go. He shrugged and his ribs reminded him why too much movement was a bad idea. He bit his lip to keep from hissing in pain. 

“Are those injuries related?” Peter’s voice was deceptively casual, but his eyes were sharp as they swept over Stiles’s torso.

“What?” Stiles looked down at the bone deep bruises that were all that remained of his broken ribs and arm. He grabbed the first shirt he found and tugged it on. Nevermind that the shirt didn't cover the bruises on his arm or the marks on his face. It at least did something. He wished he could have healed more, but his magic was too drained to even think about trying. At least he didn't have to deal with a cast. “No.” Stiles laughed bitterly. He waved a hand at his face. “This was meant to be a message for Scott. I didn't even know Boyd and Erica were down there when Gerard’s goons tossed me in his murder basement.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And what did Scott have to say about all of this?”

Stiles shrugged and looked away. “I didn’t tell him.”

“Ahh.” Peter’s tone carried a heavy weight of judgment that made Stiles flinch, even if it was kind of right. But, there had been a lot going on. And apparently Scott had been busy poisoning Gerard without even telling Stiles. Thankfully, Peter turned back to the desk, flipping through the book there. “And how long have you been practicing magic?”

Stiles shrugged and winced when his ribs ached. He sank down on his bed, relaxing back against the headboard. “Two, maybe three weeks,” he said. “Long enough to learn some runes, not much else.”

“Hmmm.” Peter flipped a few more pages. “Deaton supply you with this one?”

“No.” Stiles snorted. “All Deaton gave me was some bullshit about being the Spark and then he hasn’t had time for me since.” He waved a hand at the books on his desk. “Those were found through the wonders of the internet.”

Peter’s lips twitched up into a smile before the expression was gone again. The man was silent for a long minute as he continued to flip through the book. Stiles tensed when Peter turned his attention back to Stiles. Peter raised an eyebrow when he saw Stiles watching him and his lips twitched with amusement. Peter moved around the room slowly, examining the books on Stiles’s bookshelf and the trinkets on his dresser before finally coming towards Stiles.

“Okay, you’ve checked on me,” Stiles said nervously. “Mission accomplished. Feel free to leave at any time.” Stiles flinched when Peter cupped the back of Stiles’s neck. Then, suddenly the pain he had been feeling faded away. Stiles practically melted back into the headboard. “Nevermind,” Stiles mumbled, “stay as long as you like.”

Peter chuckled. He moved forward, adjusting his grip to Stiles’s arm instead of his neck when Stiles slid down to lie flat on the bed. Stiles was amazed to see black lines running up Peter’s veins. He wanted to ask questions, but the lack of pain was too intoxicating. His eyes drifted closed of their own accord. Before he knew it, he was slipping off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles tapped his pencil absently against the desk. He had his history textbook and notebook in front of him, his book of runes propped up to his left, a book of herbs on his right, and his laptop perched on top of some books behind all of that. Stiles had recently stumbled on a web forum that had some suspiciously on-point descriptions of werewolf abilities in the few public posts and he was waiting for moderator approval to join. In the meantime, he had finals to study for and all the magical knowledge he could get his hands on to cram into his head. His laptop was playing a random study music mix and he was in the zone. He had most of his classes down pat. He just needed to finish going over his history notes and then review for his English final and he would be set.

“Aren’t you the studious one?” 

Stiles startled. He flailed as he rapidly turned, falling out of his chair in the process. Stiles grimaced when the fall jostled his ribs. He looked over at where Peter was lounging on Stiles’s bed. Peter appeared quite comfortable and like he had been there for some time. Stiles ran a hand over his face. He groaned and grabbed onto the edge of the desk to lever himself to his feet. “What do you want, Peter?”

“Not going to ask if I’m here to kill you again?” Peter asked with an amused quirk of his lips.

Stiles snorted. “Nah. You had your chance the other day. Besides, unless I’m really bad at magic…” He paused to rap a knuckle against a rune written on the window frame. “These should keep out anyone who intends harm to the house’s occupants.” He pressed a finger to the rune and could feel the magic there. If he concentrated, he could even feel the net of runes throughout the house. The wards were holding. Stiles turned and went back to his desk as Peter walked over to study the markings on the window frame.

“Interesting,” Peter said. “And these will work against humans as well as supernatural beings?” Peter traced the runes with a finger. 

“They should.” Stiles waved a hand at the house around him. “I mean, I only did these this morning and I haven’t really tested them yet.” Stiles shrugged. “Anyways, was there a reason you came here?”

Peter turned to look at Stiles and leaned against the window frame. “Derek is having a pack meeting tomorrow night,” Peter said. “He asked me to tell you.”

Stiles blinked in surprise. “Oh.” He sank down into his desk chair. Stiles turned so he could grab his phone. “I’m assuming he wants me to make sure Scott shows up? What time and where am I supposed to bring him?” 

“Scott can tag along if he wants, but you’re the one that Derek invited.” Peter’s smile grew wider at the look of shock on Stiles’s face. “We’re meeting at six at the old house.”

Stiles glanced away long enough to set a reminder in his phone. He was surprised that Derek actually wanted him around, including him in a pack meeting no less. He set his phone down on his desk, then turned back to Peter. “Isn’t it about time that Derek found some place a little bit more permanent for the pack? You know, something with intact walls and plumbing and electricity?”

Peter chuckled. “Feel free to bring it up at the meeting tomorrow.”

“Right.” Stiles shook his head and turned back to his desk. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got finals tomorrow that I still need to study for.” He turned back to his history notes, flipping the page to the next section.

Peter came over to lean his hip against Stiles’s desk. “History was always one of my favorite subjects,” Peter said, flipping the pages of Stiles’s textbook. Stiles batted his hand away and returned it to the section he had been reviewing. Peter leaned in close to look at Stiles’s notes. “It seems like you have a solid grasp on the subject. I can’t imagine you actually have to worry about failing.”

“I don’t,” Stiles snapped. “But this whole year has been kind of shitty and I’ve put my dad through a lot. The least I can do is get good grades so he has something to be proud of.” Stiles shook his head and scooted his chair away from where Peter was looming over him. “Forget I said that.”

“Hmmm.” Thankfully Peter stepped away from the desk. Stiles felt his shoulders sag with relief. “And where is your father? Shouldn’t you two be sitting down to a cosy little family dinner right about now?”

Stiles snorted. He turned the page of his textbook a little harder than necessary. “He’s working a double,” Stiles said as he started reading the next page. “The station’s still shorthanded thanks to Matt and Jackson slaughtering a whole shift. Won’t be getting any transfers for another week or two yet.”

“Ahhh.” Thankfully Peter didn’t comment any more on that incident. Stiles tried to think about that night as little as possible. He had grown up with some of those deputies. Even after all the crap he had been through, he wasn’t used to seeing people he actually knew dead. Stiles flipped through the last few pages of the chapter before switching back to his notebook.

“When was the last time you ate?” Peter’s voice broke into his concentration when Stiles was about halfway down the page of notes.

Stiles looked up from his desk and then over at the clock, as if that would somehow help him remember. He hadn’t bothered to cook dinner since he’d sent leftovers in with his dad. Stiles hadn’t really seen the point of making something for himself when he wasn’t even hungry. He thought he had had pizza for lunch, but that might have actually been yesterday that he was remembering. Eventually, Stiles shrugged. “A couple hours ago,” he said and hoped it didn’t register as a lie. Peter seemed to accept that answer, because the man didn’t say anything further. There was silence as Stiles returned to reading through his notes.

The study music was really working its magic, because he flew through the rest of his history review. Stiles closed his history book and set it and the notebook on the floor on the pile of finished subjects. Just as he turned to reach for his English notes a brown paper sack was tossed onto the desk, startling him. Stiles flailed, but managed not to fall off the chair this time. He turned around to find Peter in his room again. 

“Don’t you have better things to do than scare the shit out of me while I’m trying to study?”

Peter chuckled at him. “Yes, but Derek’s betas would be quite cross with me if I let you die of starvation.”

Stiles stared at Peter in confusion for a second before turning to the sac on his desk, which turned out to be a McDonald’s takeout bag. He set the bag in his lap and pulled out two burgers and some fries. “You got me takeout?”

“Well, I would have cooked, but the state of your refrigerator is sadly lacking,” Peter said. 

Stiles swallowed the clump of fries in his mouth. “Grocery shopping hasn’t exactly been at the top of my priority list,” he pointed out defensively. “What with the kanima and getting kidnapped and finals... It may not be up to your standards, but it’s fine until I get a chance to go this weekend.”

Peter stared at him with an odd look before nodding his head. “My apologies.” Stiles really was going to die of shock. “Still,” Peter continued, “if you’re using magic, you need to eat regularly. Even if it’s that crap.” Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Peter slipped out the window before he had a chance. 

He grumbled, but he actually was kind of hungry now that he had started eating. “Thanks,” Stiles called out, though he wasn’t sure if Peter would still be able to hear him or not.

*************

Stiles wasn’t able to catch Erica or Boyd until lunch the next day. Instead of sitting at Lydia’s table with Scott and Allison like he normally would, he gave Scott a quick wave and continued further into the room. Stiles plopped down across from Erica at the table that she and Boyd shared with Isaac. “So… Pack meeting? Derek does know it’s a school night right?”

Erica snorted. “Yeah, but since all our finals are done today and the last two days are pretty much blow offs, he didn’t think it’d be a problem.” She stabbed her tater tots viciously. “I still have a curfew though.”

“Ahhh.” Stiles nodded and tried to be sympathetic, though he couldn’t really relate to that problem. His relationship with his dad was a little better since the lacrosse game and the hospital, but Noah still wasn’t home at night often enough for Stiles to worry about things like a curfew. “How are your folks taking the whole… wolf thing?” Stiles asked instead.

Erica smiled. “Pretty good, actually. I mean, they freaked out at first, but Derek and Peter helped calm them down. After that, they were just really happy that I wouldn’t have to deal with the epilepsy anymore. I think they’re actually kind of relieved. Peter is even going to get them some documentation to show the doctors so they don’t question why I’m not being treated anymore.”

“Wow.” Stiles had to lean back in his seat and take that in for a second. Erica laughed at him, but really his mind was blown. “It’s just so weird dealing with a sane, helpful Peter. I mean, you weren’t around for the insane version, but this one is just so… different.”

“He’s still an asshole,” Isaac put in as he dropped into the seat next to Stiles.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles said. “But, I think that’s his default setting. Like, his natural state is just smarmy asshole.”

“How did your finals go?” Erica asked Boyd, turning towards him just as he took a bite of his hot dog. 

Boyd gave her a withering look as he chewed and swallowed. “Fine,” he replied eventually.

Erica sighed and rubbed her hands through her hair. “I don’t think Harris is going to let me pass,” she admitted. “Even after submitting a ton of make-up work…” She shook her head. “At least I shouldn’t have to repeat the year.”

“Summer school won’t be so bad,” Isaac said. He shrugged when the others looked at him. “Scott’s also failing a couple classes, so he’ll probably be there too.”

“I can help tutor you if needed,” Stiles offered. 

“Thanks,” Boyd said, before returning to his lunch.

Erica smiled at him. “Hey, can you give us a ride to the meeting tonight?” Erica asked. She turned full puppy dog eyes on him. 

Stiles snorted. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll swing by around 5:30 or so.” He turned back to his tray then while the others started to talk about their upcoming afternoon finals. He offered bits of advice in between bites of food, but all too soon the bell rang.

The rest of the day flew by in a haze of tests. At the end of the day his brain felt drained and he wished he could just go home and play mindless video games for the next few hours. But, he supposed he would have enough time to do that over the summer. Instead, he forced himself to catch up to Scott, actually seeking him out for the first time since the kamina showdown.

“Hey, wait up,” he called, catching Scott’s arm before Scott could start towards the doors. He pulled Scott off to one side. “Derek invited us to a pack meeting tonight. Do you want to go?”

Scott bit his lip, but shook his head. “I don’t trust him.”

Stiles supposed he could understand that. “Neither of you has much reason to trust the other,” he pointed out. Scott looked confused. “Dude, you kind of lied to all of us and worked with Gerard behind our backs, even if it was to double cross him.” Stiles waved a hand before Scott could protest. “Anyways, that’s not going to change until you guys talk it out.”

Scott stared at him for a long minute before sighing. “I don’t know, Stiles.” He turned and started towards the doors. “I’ll think about it.”

He watched Scott disappear into the crowd. At least he tried. Stiles shook his head before shoving his way into the mass of students heading towards the parking lot. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught a flash of strawberry blonde hair, but when he turned Lydia was already walking away. She disappeared through the doors before he had a chance to catch up to her. 

When he got home, his dad’s cruiser was gone. Stiles looked at the kitchen, but headed up towards his bedroom instead. He emptied his backpack, tossing his notebooks in a corner to be sorted through later. Stiles threw his book of runes into his backpack, then sat down to read as much of the herbology book as he could before he had to pick up Erica and Boyd. 

It seemed like only minutes had passed before the alarm he’d set on his phone was going off. Stiles threw the book into his bag along with what he was now considering his magic kit, really just some herbs and mountain ash. Then, he raced down the stairs and out the door. He picked up Boyd first. The man gave him a silent nod and climbed into the back. Erica smiled at them both as she climbed into the passenger seat. She immediately began talking about her last few finals and how doomed she thought she was, but Stiles was only half listening. He hadn’t had a chance to get his Jeep checked out since crashing it through a wall. He wanted to be extra careful on the bumps and turns on the way to the old Hale House.

Thankfully, the house came into view without any weird noises coming from the engine. Stiles was more than a little bit relieved to park and climb out. Which was probably what prompted his complete lack of filter. “Dude, you have got to get a better place to live than this death trap,” he announced as he stepped inside the front door of said death trap.

Across the room, Derek stiffened, cutting off whatever he had been saying to Isaac to turn to glare at Stiles. It was only then that Stiles’s brain processed what he had said. Not exactly the best choice of words... Stiles swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and soldiered on. “Look, I know this was your family’s home and this place has a lot of meaning to you, but it’s not a proper place to live. I mean, you might be used to roughing it and whatnot, but the rest of us aren’t.” Stiles waved a hand at Isaac. “And if Isaac’s going to keep living with you, don’t you think he should have someplace with at least running water. You don’t want CPS after you.” 

Isaac backed away from Derek, holding his hands as if to keep himself out of the discussion. Derek, however, actually blinked in surprise. He turned to look at the others. “What do the rest of you think?” Derek asked.

“Well,” Erica replied, “I’m all for someplace nicer. With a TV and a kitchen and a bathroom. I mean, it's fine for you all to whip it out to mark your territory, but I am not peeing in the woods.”

Derek looked over at Boyd, who simply shrugged. Finally, Derek huffed out a sigh. “I’ll look into it.” He waved a hand at the tattered couch and crates that had been dragged into some semblance of a circle. “Sit down.” Derek perched on one of the crates. 

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac took over the couch, so Stiles carefully lowered himself down on one of the other crates. Thankfully the thing held his weight. He let his backpack fall to the ground beside him. Peter stayed in his spot against the wall, but Derek seemed to expect that. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded them. 

“I know that we haven’t been much of a pack,” Derek began. Stiles opened his mouth, his automatic reaction being to deny and reassure, but Derek continued before he could say anything. “We were held together through fear and desperation, and that’s not what pack is supposed to be.” Derek glanced over his shoulder at Peter before looking back at the rest of them. “That’s not the kind of pack that my mother had. Our pack was family, even the ones who weren’t technically related by blood.”

Derek paused, but Stiles didn’t know what to say anymore. This was really not how he expected his first pack meeting to go with Derek. He looked over at the others and saw that they looked just as surprised. Erica and Boyd looked particularly guilty.

“I want to change that,” Derek said. “I want us to get together at least once every other week and do something together as a pack. Not training, but things that friends… family would do.”

There was silence for a long minute before Erica spoke up. “So like… dinner together or movie nights?”

Derek looked over at her and smiled. “Exactly. Anything that you all want to do.”

“I can always get us into the ice skating rink,” Boyd suggested.

“There are some fun party video games,” Stiles said when the room was silent for another moment. “Like, Mario Party or Mario Kart.”

Isaac looked surprised when all eyes turned to him. He seemed a little uncomfortable at the attention, drawing into himself a little. Isaac licked his lips. “I’ve never been mini-golfing,” he said eventually. 

Derek nodded, as if adding it to his mental list. Stiles turned to look at Peter, but he was the only one. Peter raised an eyebrow at him. Stiles hastily looked away. Thankfully, Derek spoke again, drawing the room’s attention again. “I thought, maybe, I could answer any questions that you had… I want to try to be better at communicating…”

Stiles practically dived for his backpack. He heard Erica chuckling across the room, but ignored it in favor of pulling out the notebook he’d been using for supernatural things and a pen. He flipped to a blank page and braced the notebook on his lap. His brain was overflowing with possible questions. He didn’t know which he wanted to ask first. 

“Are there other packs nearby?” Boyd asked suddenly. Derek flinched at the question, but Boyd continued. “We’re not leaving. I just wondered how many packs are out there.”

Derek was quiet for a moment before answering. “There used to be a pack in Devenford, run by a woman called Satomi,” he said, “but I don’t know if she’s still there.” Derek shrugged. “I was too young to be involved in a lot of pack politics. That was more Laura’s thing as the heir.”

“Packs tend not to cluster too closely together,” Peter said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “In rural areas you’ll find one pack responsible for wide swatches of territory, whereas there are multiple packs in large cities. New York City is practically swimming with werewolves.” 

Stiles hastily scribbled down his notes as fast as he could. “What’s the typical hierarchy of a pack? I mean is it just Alpha, heir, and everyone else, or…”

Derek and Peter shared a glance before Peter answered. “In a family pack, the hierarchy would often be generational. The Alpha is at the top, but if the former Alpha is still alive, they would have a similar amount of respect as the heir. Then would fall the oldest pack members, then their children, and so on. In a non-family or mixed pack, length of time in the pack would be taken into account.” Peter paused, waiting for Stiles to finish writing before continuing. “There are also some positions that supercede that. One is the Alpha’s Second, sometimes called the Right Hand. This person would serve as the Alpha’s advisor and confidant.”

“Who was it in your family’s pack?” Erica asked.

“My Dad,” Derek said with a sad smile. 

Peter also gave a brief smile. “Yes, David, ever the peacemaker and voice of reason. There is also often a Left Hand, who does what’s necessary to protect the pack.”

Stiles snorted even as he continued to furiously write. “Let me guess, that was you?” He glanced up to see a sparkle of amusement in Peter’s eyes before the man nodded.

“There is also, of course, the pack’s Emissary. A magic user, often a Druid, who works with the pack. Sometimes they literally are the emissary from one pack to another. They are supposed to protect the pack, though some are more effective than others.”

“Deaton?” Isaac breathed out in surprise. “He was the Hales' Emissary?”

Stiles’s hand paused in his surprise. He looked up in time to see both Derek and Peter nodding. Huh. He looked back down and quickly scribbled a few more notes in his notebook. He was going to have to find some time to pester Deaton about this. Stiles wondered if there were some kinds of werewolf specific runes or spells or something that he might know. He was so busy writing down questions for Deaton that he barely paid attention to Erica’s question.

“Who’s our Emissary?” 

“Well,” Derek replied, drawing out the word a bit, “I was thinking Stiles might be a good fit.”

Stiles dropped his notebook. “What!?” He stared at Derek, sure that he head misheard him. Derek was looking right at him. “What?” Stiles repeated. “I…”

“Erica and Boyd said that you can do magic,” Derek said. He raised an eyebrow at Stiles as if daring him to deny it.

Stiles spluttered. “Well, yes…” He shook his head. “But I just started learning,” he pointed out. “I can do a couple runes, that’s about it. Not…” He waved his hand vaguely around the room at the pack. “Whatever it is an Emissary does…”

Derek shrugged. “Talk to Deaton,” he said. “You don’t have to decide right now.” Derek turned to the others. “Any other questions?”

Stiles knew he had other questions, but his mind was kind of blown right now and he couldn’t think of any. His brain had just completely short-circuited. The others just looked at each other before shrugging. That seemed to be the end to the completely weird pack meeting. To add to the weirdness, Derek made sure to touch each of them on the way out. He tussled Erica’s hair, patted Boyd on the back, and made sure to briefly grip Isaac and Stiles’s shoulders before disappearing into the rear portion of the house. Stiles stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and gathering up his notebook. He startled when Peter appeared at his shoulder. Peter ran a hand along the back of Stiles’s neck and then he was moving away to head up the stairs leaving Stiles blinking in confusion.

“Ready to go, Stiles?” Erica called from the doorway. 

“Coming,” he called. He finished zipping up his backpack and quickly escaped the house before the Hales could confuse him any more.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was in the middle of grocery shopping Saturday morning when he got a text from a number he didn’t recognize. He blinked at the text for a minute. It was just an address with an apartment number and a time, 2 pm. Stiles tried to think of anyone he’d made plans with that afternoon, but he came up blank. He might be naturally curious, but he had watched too many horror movies, nevermind practically living in one for the past year, to just follow the instructions of strange messages.

 _Who’s this?_ He sent the message and then continued down the aisle. He had made it to the cereal aisle by the time his phone beeped again. Stiles put down the two bran cereals he was comparing so that he could check the reply.

_Derek._

Suddenly, the terse message made sense. Stiles saved the number in his contacts and tucked his phone away. He still had a couple hours until he was supposed to show up at the address. Until then, he had grocery shopping to do. He turned back to the shelf and grabbed one of the boxes of bran cereal at random. They were both pretty much the same anyways. Stiles looked down at his list. He only had a couple vegetables left to grab and then he was done. Stiles probably knew more about how to judge the freshness of fruits and vegetables than most others his age, but that was okay because it meant that he made sure his dad was eating right. If he had to learn about heart-healthy recipes and how to cook kale, then so be it.

The house was empty when he got home. The only evidence that the Sheriff had been home at all was the dirty glass in the sink and one less tupperware of prepared lunch in the fridge. Stiles took stock of the lunches remaining in the fridge while he put the groceries away. He could wait until tomorrow to make more. He threw one in the microwave for his own lunch, eating it over the sink before putting all of the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and turning that on.

Stiles checked his phone, but he still had a ton of time to kill before meeting up with Derek. He made a circuit of the bedrooms, hauling their dirty clothes downstairs to the laundry room. Stiles threw in a load of his father’s uniforms first. He suppressed a little stab of guilt at the thought that his dad had almost lost the right to wear the uniform because of him. Stiles shook his head to clear the thought away. He wandered upstairs in search of a distraction. Stiles grabbed his laptop and brought it back downstairs to the living room where he would be able to hear the buzzer when the washer finished. 

Once he was settled on the couch, he pulled up Google and searched for the address that Derek had sent him. He was reassured to find out that it was actually an apartment building. Based on Derek’s past choices, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was yet another abandoned building. But, no, this one had tenants based on the property records he found. Stiles had to pause his research to change over the laundry, but then he was back to digging into all of the tenants he could find names for. He even started a document to keep track of them. And, perhaps he may have used his father’s Sheriff’s department login to get some of the information, but really it was in everyone’s best interest that he make sure that the building was safe. 

By the time he was done building his dossier, Stiles had determined that there was no one who stood out as a threat. He was pretty sure that the guy in 2B sold pot and the woman in 4D had been arrested for shoplifting in college, but there were no felonies. No one stood out as supernatural either. Stiles set up alerts that would notify him of any people moving into or out of the building. Then, the dryer dinged and he hopped up to pull the last load out. Stiles glanced at the time. He needed to leave soon to go to what he hoped was Derek’s new apartment.

He threw his magic kit and books in his backpack in case Derek had something pack related to discuss, then he was out the door. The building was in a quiet neighborhood, mostly large apartment buildings. Stiles easily found a spot in the parking lot behind the building then made his way inside. He was kind of impressed by the large, open lobby. There were elevators! He pushed the button and was incredibly glad he wasn’t going to have to trudge up thirteen flights of stairs. 

There were only two doors on Derek’s floor. It was easy enough to figure out which was the door Derek had directed him to. Opening the huge sliding door, however was less easy. Stiles gave the door a couple tugs before the thing budged. Then it slid open to reveal a huge loft. Stiles slowly stepped inside. His eyes wanted to look at everything at once, from the industrial ceiling with a skylight to the exposed brickwork to the huge windows on the far wall. There was even a spiral metal staircase at the far side meaning there was even more on the upper level. 

“Woah,” he breathed.

“Not exactly my usual taste,” Peter said, startling Stiles, “but it does have a certain potential, doesn’t it?” Peter’s grin grew when Stiles’s gaze snapped to him. Peter stepped out of what appeared to be a kitchen behind another sliding door to the left. 

“It’s nice,” Stiles agreed. “Just needs furniture and the usual apartment stuff.”

“We’re working on it,” Derek said as he came down the stairway. “Isaac and Erica are picking up dishes and groceries.” Derek turned to glare at Peter. “We’re supposed to be helping Boyd bring in the furniture.”

Stiles couldn’t help smiling at the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. Derek had a real, grown up apartment and he was letting his pack pick out stuff for it. This was tremendous growth! Something must have have leaked through his scent because Derek rolled his eyes and glanced away. 

“Peter said that you can put up wards,” Derek said. “Can you do that to the loft?”

Stiles blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” He set his bag down in a corner and riffled through it until he found the marker he was looking for and pulled it out. “I can do it now if you don’t mind Sharpie. I mean, there are other ways too, depending on what you want… paint, blood, stuff like that, but everything I’ve read said that it doesn’t really matter…”

“Sharpie’s fine,” Derek said. He waved a hand around the loft, which Stiles took as permission to go nuts with the marker.

Peter cleared his throat. “Stiles isn’t officially our Emissary yet. It would be traditional to offer payment,” Peter pointed out. “Not to mention polite.”

Derek gave his uncle a withering look that didn’t seem to faze Peter at all. Finally, he turned back to Stiles. “Would dinner and some books on the supernatural be acceptable?”

“Sold,” Stiles replied with a grin. He rubbed his hands together gleefully at the thought of the books that Derek might be able to get him. Then he dismissed the werewolves from his mind as he considered the best point to start his wards from. He turned in a full circle around the loft, taking in every door and window. In the end, he decided to start the wards at the main doorway. 

Stiles tucked the cap of the marker in his pocket and crouched down to make the first mark directly on the threshold into the apartment. As he drew the series of linked runes, he focused his magic on the markings and concentrated on what he wanted the runes to do. Stiles smiled when he felt the first marking set. It would be a nice base for the rest of the network. He shuffled over to the bottom of the doorframe and made the marking again. Then he continued up around the door in a clockwise direction. Stiles had to drag over a crate he’d found in a corner to stand on to reach the top of the frame, but it held under his weight.

“Is it okay to come in?” Boyd asked, drawing Stiles’s attention. He glanced down at the boy in front of him, then back up at his rune.

“Yeah,” Stiles said as he continued to draw. “One sec.” He quickly finished the rune he was working on, then hopped off the crate and nudged it aside so that he wasn’t blocking the doorway any longer. He watched as Boyd carried in a huge box without much apparent effort. Stiles shook his head and carefully stepped back up onto the crate to add a second rune to the top of the wide door frame. Behind him there was a little bit of grumbling, then Boyd, Derek, and Peter were all heading out of the loft. 

Stiles used the excuse of setting the wards to snoop through the entire apartment. He had to open every door to make sure there were no windows that needed warded, after all. Stiles decided to continue with the clockwise direction for his exploration. He found an empty closet by the front door. Next to that was a bathroom, which did have a little window. Stiles went back to his bag and dug out his book of runes. He quickly flipped through the book until he found a rune that would protect the rest of the mark from water and steam. Then it was back to the bathroom to work that rune into the sigil that focused his wards. 

A bang in the main room drew his attention a few minutes later. Stiles poked his head out in time to see Derek walking backwards with one end of a large couch. Seconds later Boyd appeared with the other end. Stiles had to marvel at the usefulness of werewolf strength when moving. He turned back to his wards and tried to ignore the muffled thuds from the other room. When he emerged to move into the kitchen, everyone was gone again. He heard more thumps as he worked his way around the kitchen windows. By the time he made his way from the kitchen into what appeared to be a spare bedroom, the living room had gained a second couch and a pair of chairs in addition to a couple boxes.

The rest of the downstairs passed easily enough, but Stiles had to pause when he considered the huge windows in the living room and the skylight. His crate helped him get the sides of the window frame, but wasn’t quite high enough for the top. Stiles stepped back down and looked around. “Hey Derek,” he called out, hoping the werewolf could hear him from wherever he was. “Do you have a ladder?”

Boyd appeared in the doorway, setting down a coffee table before coming over towards Stiles. “I’ll give you a boost,” he said. Before Stiles knew what was happening, Boyd had ducked down and was straightening back up with Stiles on his shoulders. 

Stiles squawked in surprise as he wobbled. Then, Boyd shifted and Stiles managed to get his balance. “Okay,” Stiles said, hesitantly. “I just need to do two runes along the top of the window and then four along the skylight.” 

“About here?” Boyd asked, moving in front of the window.

“Just a little to the right,” he said. Stiles concentrated as he drew the runes. “Okay. Now, a couple steps to the left.” Boyd followed his instructions and moments later Stiles was starting on the last of the runes he needed for the window. “Alright, now, let’s see if I can reach the skylight like this.”

Boyd moved across the room slowly, careful to brace Stiles’s legs as they moved so Stiles only wobbled a little bit. Thankfully the skylight was low enough that Stiles was just barely able to reach the frame with the tips of his fingertips. It made drawing awkward. Stiles was definitely going to have a cramp in his neck after all of this. He heard a snort as they shifted position for him to start the second rune, but by the time he looked down, Derek was walking away shaking his head. Stiles mentally shrugged and turned back to his magic. 

“Hey! If we’re doing chicken fights, I get dibs on Boyd.” 

Erica’s voice startled him from his concentration and he wobbled. Boyd let go of one of Stiles’s legs to grab his shirt to steady Stiles. Otherwise Stiles probably would have toppled backwards. Stiles let out a slow, calming breath as he regained his balance. He looked up at his rune. His near tumble hadn’t messed it up at all. Stiles shot a withering look at Erica, who didn’t look apologetic at all as she hauled a large number of bags into the kitchen.

“I’m working magic here,” he called after her. He shook his head and turned back to the rune. Two simple strokes and it was finished, another little surge in the growing net around the house. “Last one,” he said softly to Boyd. He carefully marked in the last rune on the skylight. “All set.” Stiles let out a sigh of relief when his feet were back on the ground. “Thanks,” he said to Boyd, clapping him on the shoulder. He turned to the kitchen. “You can have your boyfriend back now,” he called to Erica before heading up the stairs. 

At the top of the spiral staircase he found a short hallway with a couple doors leading off of it. One turned out to be another bathroom, which was easy enough to ward. The other three looked like they could be bedrooms. There was one large room on the left and then two smaller ones on the right. Stiles let the clacking and thuds from downstairs fade into the background and concentrated on the windows instead. He wasn’t sure how long it took before he was contemplating his final challenge, a small skylight window in the hallway. 

“Boyd, can you give me a lift again?” Stiles called down the stairs. He didn’t hear any answer, but he didn’t really expect to either. He turned away from the stairs to regard the hallway once more. He double checked to make sure he hadn’t missed any roof access hatch or anything else. He almost wondered if he could figure out some way to access the pipes to make sure the apartment’s water source never got tampered with, but maybe that was a little bit too paranoid even for him. 

“Allow me.” The voice behind him wasn’t Boyd’s nor were the hands that wrapped around his waist and easily lifted him up to reach the skylight. Stiles froze in Peter’s grip, certain he was going to be dropped any second. Peter’s hold didn’t even twitch. 

Stiles swallowed nervously and quickly drew the first rune. Peter moved forward without Stiles having to ask so that Stiles could draw the second, then the third. Finally he had the last rune in place and the whole net snapped harmoniously into place. “All set,” Stiles said. Peter slowly lowered him to the ground. Stiles capped his marker and tucked it away in his back pocket. 

When he turned, he was surprised to find Peter still there. The man’s hands slowly drew down Stiles’s hips from where Peter had been holding Stiles around the waist. Stiles was pretty sure he was staring at Peter with wide eyes, but the man only grinned at him. Peter brushed a hand over the side of Stiles’s neck. Then, Peter just turned and walked away like he wasn’t being the most confusing fuck ever. “Pizza is almost here,” Peter called over his shoulder.

Sure enough, the delivery person knocked on the door just as Stiles started down the spiral staircase. Derek was already waiting for the man. He handed over a wad of cash in exchange for a stack of pizza boxes and then simply shut the door before the man could make any conversation. Stiles shook his head. He didn’t comment though, instead wandering over to what appeared to be a recently assembled table judging by the discarded pile of cardboard nearby. Erica appeared from the kitchen with paper plates and napkins while Isaac trailed after her with two cases of pop. 

The younger wolves descended on the pizza in a way that Stiles was growing more and more familiar with. He waited off to one side until the coast was clear before snagging a plate and a couple pieces of pizza. Stiles sat down on one of the couches and marveled at how well the living room was coming together. Derek had definitely gotten plenty of seating for the pack. The table was nice and big and it looked like there were chairs yet to be assembled as well. It would be a nice place for pack meals going forward or for hanging out and doing homework. 

Stiles spotted a stack of boxes on one side of the room, one of which looked like a TV. He kept glancing over at it even as he plowed his way through his plate of pizza. Stiles forewent seconds in exchange for wiping of his hands and digging through the boxes. He found a TV and an entertainment center as well as a DVD player and a modem. Stiles practically cackled with glee at the thought of Derek actually having wifi. He pulled open the box for the entertainment center. The sooner he got the thing assembled the sooner he could play with the electronics. 

“Here,” Peter said. Stiles looked up to see the man handing him the screwdriver that he would need to assemble the entertainment center. 

“Thanks!” Stiles was interrupted from saying anything more by Derek calling out Peter’s name from across the room. When Stiles looked over, Derek was waiting at the foot of the spiral staircase with a mattress. He glared over at Peter and Stiles impatiently. Stiles snorted. “You have fun with that.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, but went to help Derek maneuver the mattress upstairs. When Stiles looked around, the others were gone. He wondered if there was still more furniture to be brought up from… wherever they were getting it from. A moving truck? Stiles shook his head and focused on the instructions in front of him instead. Thankfully the thing was easy enough to put together. Stiles even added a durability rune to the back as a bonus. 

Moving the thing was not nearly as easy. He tried to pick it up, but it was wide and heavy. Stiles managed to move it a few inches before he had to set it down again. He huffed out a sigh and wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead before picking the thing up again. Then, Erica and Issac appeared, each grabbing an end. 

“Derek, where do you want the entertainment center?” Erica shouted across the room. Stiles flinched and backed away, letting the two werewolves take over the heavy lifting. 

Derek appeared at the top of the staircase. “Whereever,” he said, waving his hand towards where the couches were arranged. “In line with the couches.” With that the Alpha disappeared back into the bedrooms again.

Erica and Isaac shrugged as one. They carried the entertainment center so that it was across from the seating area and pretty much centered. Erica looked over at Stiles. “Anything else?”

Stiles looked around and then nodded towards the TV. It would probably be easier with someone else helping him lift it. “You want to hold that while I get it set up?”

The TV itself was a beautiful, large flat screen that Stiles sensed Peter’s influence in buying. It reeked of expensive, top of the line technology, which was not really Derek’s style. Stiles was in love with it. As soon as he had the stand secured, he waved Erica away to do other things. Stiles was in his zone among the wires and technology. He had the TV set up in a matter of moments. The DVD player and modem followed after, each with their own place on the entertainment center. Stiles was pleased to note that there was still plenty of room for some kind of gaming system in the future. 

Once everything was set up, Stiles set the remotes on the coffee table where Derek could find them and stood back to admire his work. No one else was around, so he sank down on the couch to wait for someone to appear so he could see if there was something else he could help with. He had to admit that it was a really comfortable couch. Derek, or probably Peter, had chosen a soft fabric that Stiles practically sank into. He let his eyes drift closed for just a second.

Stiles startled when a hand shook him awake. He flailed about, confused at the unfamiliar surroundings, before he realized he was on Derek’s couch. “Shit,” he muttered. Stiles straightened up and rubbed his hands over his face and hair. He shook his head to clear away the last of the cobwebs. Stiles let his hands fall to his lap. “Sorry, I meant to help out more, not fall asleep.” 

Peter shook his head and sank down onto the other couch. “It’s fine,” he said. “Won’t your dad be expecting you home though?”

“Oh.” Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “No, he’s working tonight. He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but then turned to look around at the apartment. “Derek is taking the truck back now and dropping the betas off on the way. He promised to have the books for you at the next pack meeting.”

“Cool.” Stiles slowly got to his feet. His ribs gave him a few twinges of pain when he stretched, but he felt stiff from sleeping in an unusual position so the stretching was necessary. He looked back over at Peter once he was done. The man had an odd look on his face, but it was quickly masked by his usual smug, calm expression. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He went over to gather up his things. 

Stiles paused in the threshold and felt for his wards. They felt strong and steady. “Tell Derek his wards are all set,” he said, looking back at Peter. 

“Stiles,” Peter called. Stiles paused with his hand on the door handle. He looked back at Peter with a raised eyebrow. “What would you charge to ward my apartment?”

Stiles blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t live in an underground lair somewhere?”

Peter snorted. “Yes, Stiles, I live in an underground network of caves hidden deep in the the woods.”

“What, really?”

“No, you idiot,” Peter said in a drawl full of amused derision. “I live in an apartment downtown.”

“Oh.” Stiles felt somewhat disappointed. “Not very much in keeping with your supervillain aura, but I suppose it is more practical.” He shifted his backpack a little so it was more solidly on his shoulder. “How about we establish the standard rate of food and books? I like food and books.”

Peter smiled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’m sure you and Scott have some plans for your first week of vacation, but after that?”

Stiles winced. Scott had sent him a message that he and Allison were breaking up, but they didn’t actually have any plans to hang out. Granted, Stiles hadn’t really suggested anything either. He’d just gotten used to Scott blowing him off for Allison. Now that Allison was apparently going off to France for the summer though, he wondered if that would change. 

“Stiles?” Peter’s voice drew Stiles back to the present.

“Sorry,” he said. “Whenever is fine. Just text me.” Stiles waved a hand dismissively and then quickly made his escape to the elevator.

*************

When he’d told Peter to text him, he’d expected a simple address and a time like Derek had. Instead, he and Peter somehow started texting regularly over the next few days. It had started out with a simple _This is Peter._ followed by questions about Stiles’s food preferences. From there, they’d somehow gotten into a conversation about different types of food and the best restaurants in town. Peter told him about some of the ones that had been around when he was little that were no longer there. Stiles filled him in on the ones that had opened since Peter's time in the coma. And then they just started talking about random things from there. Peter sent him pictures from around town with funny captions. Stiles responded with internet memes.

It was actually kind of normal. Nice even.

Surprisingly, he actually heard from Scott as well. Scott apologized for not hanging out as often when he had been dating Allison. Once Stiles recovered from his shock they actually made plans to hang out and Scott promised to start being a better friend. He picked up Scott on Monday and they drove out to the practice lacrosse field together so Stiles could get some practice in. His ribs were feeling better and he wanted to celebrate the freedom of summer break by doing something outside. 

“So, you really think she’s going to come back to you?” Stiles asked as he and Scott climbed out of his Jeep.

“Yeah, I know she is,” Scott said with a small, dopey smile on his face. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he opened up the back of the Jeep. “What about you and Lydia?” Scott asked while they pulled their lacrosse gear out.

“Ah. Well, the ten-year plan for making Lydia fall in love with me may have to stretch to fifteen, but the plan is definitely still in motion.”

Scott closed the back hatch and the rounded the Jeep before they headed for the practice field. “Why don’t you just ask her out?” Scott asked.

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, okay.” He shook his head and pulled on his gloves. “Why don’t you just get in the goal and help me make Team Captain like you promised there, big guy.” He stopped a few yards away from the goal and dropped his bag and the bag of balls that he’d brought. 

“Hey, you know what I just realized?” Scott slowly turned around in the goal to face Stiles. “I’m right back where I started.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked as he got the balls out of the bag and arranged them on the ground beside him. 

“I mean no lacrosse, no popularity, no girlfriend. Nothing.” 

“Dude,” Stiles said with a bit of offense, “you still got me.”

“I had you before,” Scott pointed out. 

“Yeah, and you still got me.” He pointed at Scott to emphasize that. “Okay? It’s a life fulfilled.”

“Very,” Scott agreed with a smile. He started to twirl his lacrosse stick as he waited in the goal.

Stiles leaned down to scoop up the first ball. “Now remember, no wolf powers,” he ordered. 

Across the field, Scott nodded solemnly. “Got it.” 

“No, I mean it.” Stiles looked at Scott as he emphasized his points. “No super fast reflexes, no super eyesight, no hearing…” Scott nodded along. “None of that crap, okay?”

“Okay.” Scott tapped his stick against the sides of the goal and braced himself. “Come on.”

Stiles bit his lip as he looked at the ball he had in the pocket of his stick. He tried to think back to the other night, when he had been at the game scoring goal after goal, but all his mind kept turning to was the things that happened afterwards. He shook his head to clear it. Stiles adjusted his stance, then looked over at Scott again. “You promise?”

“Would you just take the shot already?” Scott called back.

Stiles turned away and when he looked back Scott had crouched down in the goal. He adjusted his grip and let the ball fly. As it was soaring towards the goal, he caught the glint of gold in Scott’s eyes as he moved and easily caught the ball. Stiles groaned in frustration. “I said no wolf powers!”

Scott didn’t look at all apologetic. He did at least hold himself back on the strength when he tossed the ball back to Stiles. Stiles was glad that he was able to redeem himself by at least managing to catch the pass. He narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders. Stiles took a few running steps towards the goal and launched the ball again. Scott caught it easily. And the next one. And the one after that. Stiles tried feinting left then right then right again. He tried spinning right before he tossed. He tried aiming high or low, but nothing that he tried was a match for Scott’s enhanced reflexes. Eventually his ribs started to ache from the exertion.

“That’s enough,” Stiles called. He knelt down on the grass to gather the balls into their bag. Stiles groaned when he stood and his muscles protested. He really needed to get in better shape for next season. 

“Has Peter been acting weirder than normal?” Scott asked as they stowed their equipment back into the Jeep.

Stiles looked up at him in surprise. “You noticed it too?” Stiles felt a mixture of shock and relief. He had thought he was going crazy. “Has he been doing the touching thing with you too?”

“What!?” Scott looked at him like he’d grown a third arm. “No, he was at my house.”

“Really?” Stiles blinked in surprise. Peter hadn’t mentioned anything about that in any of his text messages. “What did he say to you?”

“That’s the weird thing…” Scott paused to look over at Stiles. “He was there talking to my mom.” Scott laughed at the disgusted look that must have crossed Stiles face. “Not like that. He was, like, apologizing, I guess. For the date, and all of the weird stuff when he was crazy. Like, I got home and they were in the kitchen having coffee and he was answering all her different questions about werewolves.” Scott shook his head. “Dude, it was so weird. Do you think this is some kind of ploy to get me to join Derek’s pack?”

Stiles scoffed. “Yes, Scott, Peter was sent to get your mom to guilt you into joining.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure what Peter’s up to, but that’s not really Derek’s style.” Stiles shrugged. “It’s not a bad idea though,” he said after a long moment of silence. “Joining the pack, I mean. They’re actually kind of a real pack now. Peter’s sane. Derek’s trying to listen and communicate. He even has a real apartment now. We all helped move furniture in last week.”

“So you’re part of Derek’s pack now?” 

Stiles bristled at the hint of betrayal in Scott’s voice and expression. “Kind of, yeah,” he admitted. “Derek wants me to train to be their Emissary.” He looked over at Scott and caught his confused expression. “I guess it’s like a pack adviser of sorts.” Stiles shrugged. “I need to ask Deaton about it.”

“Deaton?” Scott looked adorably confused.

“He was the Hales’ Emissary,” Stiles explained. “Before the fire I guess.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyways, Boyd and Erica have really mellowed out now and Isaac is still kinda douchey, but he’s not so bad. We’re supposed to have a movie night on Friday.”

“Boyd and Erica were being kept by Gerard, right?” Scott asked, leaning up against the side of the Jeep. “Derek rescued them?”

Stiles hesitated. “Something like that, yeah,” he said eventually. He quickly climbed into the Jeep as if he could escape the conversation. “Did Peter do anything else besides talk to your mom?”

Scott frowned as he climbed into the passenger side. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “He pulled me aside and had this long talk with me, but I wasn’t really sure what he was trying to get at because it’s Peter and he can never just come out and say what he wants to say.” Stiles snorted at that, because it was so true sometimes. “But, he was talking about making sure I didn’t become an omega, and making sure I had a solid anchor with my friends and my family and stuff and not just ‘passing teenage flings’ or something like that.” Scott shrugged and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I think he was trying to be… helpful?” He shook his head. “It was really weird.”

Stiles laughed. “That is so low on the scale of weird for our lives lately, dude.” He started the Jeep and turned back towards the road to Scott’s house and left contemplating the puzzle that was Peter Hale for another day.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter’s apartment turned out to be in a building at the heart of downtown with polished glass doors and its own parking garage underneath. Stiles felt a little weird parking his beat-up Jeep in one of the visitor spots between two very expensive cars. He felt even more awkward crossing the fancy lobby, nodding at the doorman, and pushing the button for the elevators. It was a relief to step into the elevator and away from the doorman’s curious glances. Stiles quickly pushed the button for Peter’s floor. He was just glad Peter didn’t live in the penthouse. 

Stiles knocked on a nondescript door and then there was Peter. He had to blink at the sight of the man in a worn Henley, soft looking pants, and socked feet. It looked so… normal. Then Peter’s lips quirked into his usual knowing smirk and Stiles was back on familiar territory. He rolled his eyes and pushed past Peter into the apartment. 

“Nice place,” Stiles said as he looked around the living room. Somehow Peter had managed to make posh furniture look comfortable and lived in. Everything was modern looking with dark woods, black and metal finishes, and shiny bits of glass. But there was also a bookshelf stuffed full of books that actually had their spines cracked and weren’t just for show. The modern furnishings were accented with warm rugs and throw pillows. And there was an honest to god throw over the back of the sofa. 

He turned to raise an eyebrow at Peter, but the werewolf had closed the door and was already in the kitchen. Stiles let his bag fall to the floor near the coffee table. He drifted over to lean on the island separating the living room from the kitchen and watched in fascination as Peter expertly chopped herbs and then scooped them into some kind of tomato sauce. Was he cooking? For Stiles?

Peter turned to look at Stiles while he stirred the sauce. His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your books are on the coffee table,” Peter said. Peter tutted when Stiles immediately turned and ran towards the two worn leather tomes there. “Wards before payment, Stiles,” Peter called out. Stiles forced himself to reach for his bag instead of the books. He pulled out his trusty Sharpie and turned towards the door frame. 

Warding Peter’s apartment took significantly less time than Derek’s had. For one thing the space was much smaller. There was only one floor and not as many bedrooms, only the main bedroom, a guest room, and what looked like a third bedroom turned into a home office. Peter also didn’t have any huge windows, skylights, or things like that. No window in the bathroom either. And, Stiles had also gotten really good at drawing this particular symbol by now. The only thing that took extra time was resisting the urge to snoop through every drawer. Instead, Stiles restrained himself to just looking and forced himself to move from room to room quickly. He wandered back into the living room just as Peter was setting plates out on the table.

Stiles glanced at the books Peter had set out as Stiles’s payment, but the delicious aroma from the kitchen tempted him. He gently placed the books in his backpack before letting the scent lure him in. When he stepped into the kitchen he found that Peter had definitely been hiding some real talent. Stiles was more than a bit surprised by the stuffed chicken over spaghetti with a tomato sauce that smelled delicious. There was even garlic bread. He found himself drifting over to the table as if drawn there. Everything smelled so good. 

Two glasses of water clinked down on the table, drawing Stiles’s attention away from the food. He looked up at Peter, who was watching him with another of his unreadable expressions. “It’s not poisoned,” Peter said dryly as he settled into his own chair.

Stiles hastily slipped into his own seat. “I didn’t think it was,” he snapped back. He resisted the urge to rub at his neck. Not that the werewolf couldn’t smell his embarrassment at being caught staring. He picked up his knife and fork, cutting into the chicken so that he had an excuse not to look up at Peter. He popped the first bite into his mouth and moaned. He tasted sharp cheese and artichokes and tomatoes and he wasn’t even sure what else, but it was so good. Stiles dipped his second chunk of chicken into the pasta sauce, which turned out to be just as good. “Mmm,” he murmured as he looked up at Peter. “This is amazing.”

Peter cut his chicken with smooth, precise strokes. “I’m glad you approve.” Peter looked up at him then and smirked as he popped a bite of chicken into his mouth. “It’s an old family recipe,” Peter added a few moments later.

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Stiles still felt awkward about bringing up their family around Derek or Peter. For lack of anything to say, Stiles turned back to his plate, which really wasn’t a hardship at all. He would have been worried about the probably embarrassing sounds of enjoyment he was making, but Peter had been around the pack enough to be used to it be now. Peter at least seemed amused when Stiles glanced up at him. Stiles plowed through the generous portion on his plate until all that was left was sauce that he chased around his plate with pieces of garlic bread. When even that was gone, he leaned back in his chair with a content sigh. “Would you be willing to share the recipe with me? I’m going to need more of this in my life.”

Peter chuckled, warm and rich. His eyes met Stiles’s over the rim of his water glass. “I could,” Peter said. He set his glass down and delicately dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Or I could make it for you again.” 

“Wha?” Stiles blinked at Peter in surprise. “You don’t have to do that,” Stiles protested. “I don’t usually cook things this fancy, but I can handle it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t implying that you couldn’t cook, Stiles.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Have you considered that I might actually enjoy cooking for other people?”

Stiles’s brain faltered, because no, he never would have considered that. But, then, there was a lot about Peter that he never would have considered before the last couple weeks. “Oh.” Not the most intelligent reply, but that was what came out of his mouth anyways. “I mean, sure… If you’re sure you want to…” Stiles laughed nervously. “God, that would be weird though… I can’t remember the last time that someone cooked for me. Before today, I mean...” He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“Really?” Peter’s eyes flashed with something dark. He leaned forward even more, pushing into Stiles’s space as much as the table between them would allow. “Is that so?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…” he said slowly. He was a bit confused by Peter’s reaction. There was something here that he was missing. “I mean... sometimes Melissa cooks for Scott and me when I stay over at his place. Well, when she isn’t working… But that was, like, pre-Allison, so it’s been awhile… And I do the cooking at home, so…” 

“You do the cooking and get the groceries,” Peter listed off, his voice oddly tight. “You take out the garbage, do the dishes, the laundry…” Peter pinned Stiles with his gaze and raised on cocky eyebrow. “Does your father do anything besides pay the bills?”

And there was the asshole Peter that Stiles was used to.

Stiles bristled. “He works. Like, a lot,” Stiles said defensively. He pushed himself up from his lazy slouch and leaned towards Peter. “He’s the Sheriff. He has to stay late and go in early and he covers people’s shifts when they can’t come in. Taking care of the house is the least I can do for him.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “It’s one thing to help with the chores,” Peter said, “but you’re doing it all. That, plus your school work, plus somehow keeping Scott alive, which I’m still not sure why you bother.” Peter waved a hand dismissively, cutting off Stiles’s protests before he could even voice them. “And you can’t honestly tell me the extra shifts are a recent thing.” Peter cocked an eyebrow at Stiles as if daring him to lie.

Stiles’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s… It’s not…”

“Perhaps if your father spent more time at home,” Peter continued, leaning back in his chair, “maybe he’d see what kind of effect getting dragged into all this supernatural bullshit has had on you. But, he has yet to notice when it happens right in front of his face…”

A loud bang cut off anything else Peter would have said. Stiles looked down to find that the plate in front of him had shattered into pieces. His fork was floating slightly, pointed at Peter as if it were about to launch itself at the werewolf, while the rest of the of the dishware on the table rattled ominously. Stiles’s chair screeched across the tile as he hastily pushed to his feet. He ignored the hovering silverware to focus on Peter. “Don’t you dare talk about my father like that,” Stiles hissed. “There is nothing wrong with how we do things. I can take care of myself perfectly fine.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the room. Stiles quickly grabbed his backpack from near the coffee table. He ignored Peter calling his name as he turned towards the door. He slammed the door shut behind him.

Stiles fumed the entire elevator ride down to the parking garage. Thankfully no one else got on because he wasn’t sure he could be around anyone else right now without lashing out and he wasn’t quite sure what his magic would do if he did. He kept his fists clenched and tried to control his breathing.

The drive home certainly didn’t help any. He was still furious by the time he parked the Jeep in the driveway. For once he was glad his father wasn't home. He really didn’t want to try to explain a floating lamp or something to his dad. It was going to be awhile until he calmed down enough for his magic to stop acting out on its own, and he really needed to figure out why that happened and if it was going to be a thing now. In the meantime, he just had to channel some of that rage. Stiles slapped his hand down over the wards on the doorframe as he paused inside the front door. His magic flowed into the wards, creating a second layer and pushing it out to enclose the whole yard. Then, with a little twist of spite, he told both sets of wards to keep Peter out. 

Satisfied with his work, Stiles closed the door behind him and jogged up to his room. He set his backpack down on his bed and started to take out the books Peter had given him, but just thinking about the man was making him angry again. He set the books aside on a bookshelf where he wouldn’t see them and pulled out his phone instead.

He had three missed calls and several missed texts from Peter.

Stiles swiped away the notifications without looking at a single text. Instead he messaged Scott to ask if he was up for some online gaming. He logged onto the supernatural message board while he was waiting for Scott to answer. There were a couple replies to threads that he was following. Stiles clicked through them, even venturing to put in his very first comment on the site on a thread about different strains of wolfbane. He had just clicked over to the little section about magic to start combing through the old posts to see if someone mentioned something similar to his recent episode when he was distracted by the flashing notification light on his phone. Stiles hesitated before unlocking his phone, but heaved a sigh of relief when it was Scott getting back to him and not another text from Peter. He pushed away from his desk. A couple of hours of Call of Duty were just what he needed right now.

*************

Stiles bit into a second slice of pizza as he watched Erica work on the last problem on her Chemistry worksheet. His phone beeped, drawing his eyes away. Stiles set his pizza down and carefully wiped his hands to keep from getting grease on his precious phone. He grimaced when he looked at the display. All he had to see was Peter’s name in the sender field before he swiped the notification away without reading any further.

“Done!” Erica threw down her pencil and bounced up from where she had been sitting cross-legged in front of the coffee table in his living room. She practically shoved the paper at his chest. The couch rocked as she settled next to him, but Stiles ignored her in favor of checking over her answers. He slowly read over each line and tried to find anything that Harris would have a problem with.

“Looks good to me,” he said finally, handing the paper back.

“Yes!” Erica pumped her fist in triumph. Stiles shook his head while Erica stuck the paper in a folder and shoved that into her bag. “Two more weeks of that asshole and I’ll be done with Chemistry,” Erica said as she leaned forward and snagged the remote. Erica leaned back as she pressed play on the DVD she had queued up. She curled into the far arm of the couch with her legs stretched towards Stiles. They shared a grin of excitement as the movie began, even though he knew that she had seen Batman Begins at least as many times as he had. Stiles leaned back into the couch as he polished off his pizza and set his plate aside.

“How’s Boyd doing?” Stiles asked a few minutes later as on screen Bruce Wayne began to travel the world.

“Hmm?” Erica blinked over at him as she looked up from her phone. “He’s good. On his lunch break at work now.” She shrugged as she set the phone back down. “Summer means more time at the ice rink for him between his normal hours and the extra birthday parties and events.”

A few more minutes passed in silence as they get sucked into the movie. Bruce was back in Gotham by the time Erica spoke again. “Isaac’s thinking about getting a part-time job after he finishes summer school,” Erica said. Stiles glanced over at her, but her eyes were still glued to the screen. She seemed to sense him looking because she glanced over at him before looking back at the screen. “Wants to pitch in since he’s living with Derek in an actual apartment now.”

He considered that for a moment before shrugging. “At least all his time helping his father at the cemetery will look good on a job application,” Stiles said. He turned back to the screen as Morgan Freeman’s voice drew him back into the movie. 

Stiles’s phone buzzed. He absently reached for it without looking away from the screen and the first encounter between Batman and the Scarecrow. This was one of his favorite parts. He glanced at his phone and bit back a curse at Peter’s name. Stiles swiped the message away and flipped his phone face down for good measure. 

Erica at least waited until the good bit was over before pausing the movie. “Okay, Batman,” Erica said, prodding him with her toes, “what’s up?”

He swatted at her foot, but otherwise didn’t look over at her. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh huh.” He could practically feel the judgment rolling off of her. Stiles glanced over at Erica and… yup, there was the raised eyebrow that was oddly reminiscent of Derek. “Spill,” she ordered. Erica moved to poke him with her toes again, but he batted her away before she could.

“Honest, it’s nothing,” he said again. “Peter was a douche and now I’m not talking to him.”

“Peter, as in Derek’s uncle, Peter?”

“Yes,” Stiles confirmed with an exasperated sigh. “Peter Hale, zombie-wolf extraordinaire. That Peter.”

“Ahhh.” Erica let the syllable draw out for a second. There was moment of silence. “So, the Peter that’s standing outside?”

“What?” Stiles half-started up out of his seat before deciding that no, he really did not want to check because that would involve looking at the man and he was just… nope. Not ready to do that without being angry yet. Stiles sank back down in his seat and pinched his nose. He decided to continue on with his practice of ignoring the man and hoped Peter would get bored eventually and go away. 

Erica cocked her head to the side for a second. “Peter wants me to tell you that he’s sorry.” She nudged him with a toe. “What’s he sorry for?”

Stiles made a frustrated noise and slouched down into the couch. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He pulled the pillow out from beside himself and smooshed it against his face. Just thinking about the argument was making him feel annoyed and defensive again.

The pillow was yanked away from his face before he could give in to urge to the smother himself with it. Erica hit him in the chest with it, surprisingly gentle for a werewolf, and he latched on to try to grab it back from her. She hit him with the pillow a few more times. Each time he managed to latch on again until they were wrestling on the couch. Erica cackled as she managed to tip them off the couch and onto the floor, even though she took the brunt of the fall. She took one more chance to bop him on the head with the pillow before relinquishing control of it. Stiles couldn’t help laughing too as he pushed himself to his feet. He held a hand out to help Erica up, but she just did some kind of kick flip gymnastic werewolf thing and she was on her feet again.

“Showoff,” Stiles muttered as he settled himself back on the couch with the pillow in place behind him. His eyes landed on his phone and a bit of his good mood faded. “If he’s still out there, tell Peter he’s an ass and I’m still angry at him.”

Erica raised an eyebrow at him and then shook her head. And, yes, they both know that Peter could easily hear every word that Stiles had said. “Peter, Stiles says you’re an ass, so fuck off.” And that was why he and Erica got along so well.

He snorted out a laugh. Erica grinned at him with a spark of mischief in her eyes. She leaned forward to grab a couple more slices of pizza, handing one to Stiles as well, then resumed the movie. A few minutes passed before a curious look crossed her face. “How come I can pass your wards and he can’t? Has he gone evil again or something?”

“Nah.” Stiles reached for his soda and took a drink to wet his throat. “I was so mad at him I just told the wards to exclude him without really thinking about whether or not it should be possible.” He shrugged. “Apparently it is. Haven’t really figured out why beyond that it’s something to do with being a ‘Spark’ as Deaton calls it rather than a Druid or whatever else.” 

“Huh,” was all Erica said. Which, yeah. He wished there was some kind of primer for this shit. Instead he was left wading through old books and hundreds of random forum posts in hopes of picking up some tidbits. Stiles would pay good money for a concise guide explaining how any of this magic stuff worked. 

The movie sucked them back in as the ate more of the pizza Erica had brought over. Thankfully the rest of the movie passed without interruptions, because he didn’t think either of them would have had an easy time tearing themselves away when the movie got so intense at the end. Then the credits were rolling and they both slumped back into the couch with smiles on their faces. Stiles glanced over at Erica in time to see her looking over at him. They both bust out into giggles at how giddy they looked over a fucking Batman movie.

A knock at the door drew his attention. Stiles looked over at it curiously. He wasn’t expecting anyone else and he would have felt it if Peter somehow managed to bypass his wards to get close enough to knock. He extricated himself from the couch while Erica busied herself putting away the DVD. When he opened the door, Stiles was surprised to find Lydia waiting on his doorstep. “Uh, hey, Lydia.” He looked over her shoulder, but there was no evidence of Jackson lingering nearby and no Peter either, just Lydia’s car parked along the street. His eyes snapped back to the girl in his doorway. “What can I do for you?” 

Lydia brushed past him and into the house. “I want to know,” Lydia said, meeting his eyes intently. “I want to know about werewolves and kanima and whatever else is out there.”

The words ‘are you sure’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say them because Lydia wouldn't be here if she wasn't sure. Instead he nodded. “Okay,” he said as he closed the door. Stiles waved Lydia towards the living room and started that way himself. When he stepped into the living room, he caught a flash of something like hurt on Erica’s face before the girl turned away. “Erica, do you mind helping me with the Supernatural 101 talk? Or I can have Lydia come back another time?”

Erica looked at him in surprise for a second. Then she blinked and all that was left was a bit of curiosity. “Sure,” she said, sinking back down onto the couch. “I wouldn’t mind hearing some of it myself. Derek hasn’t really given us a lot in the way of explanations.”

Stiles snorted. He was so surprised. Before he had a chance to say something about Derek’s lack of communication skills, Lydia spoke up. “Derek as in Derek Hale, right? Jackson said he was the Alpha, whatever that means.”

“Right,” Stiles confirmed. He sank down on the couch again and waved for Lydia to take one of the other chairs. She perched on one of the armchairs before pulling out a notepad and pen. There were already notes scribbled on the page, so he guessed Jackson must have started to explain some of this before she’d come here. “Where is Jackson anyways?”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “His parents sent him to London for the summer. To get him away from ‘bad influences’ in this town.”

Stiles shook his head. “An American Werewolf in London,” he said with a laugh. “I am so getting him the DVD of that when he comes back.” Stiles cackled a little as he pulled up Amazon on his phone and started looking up cheap copies.

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” Lydia’s voice held a dry note of impatience. “Alpha. Explain.” 

“Umm…” Stiles held up a hand as if he could hold back what was sure to be a deluge of questions from Lydia. “Just to preface, I’m not actually an expert in all of this,” he pointed out. “I mean, yeah, I probably know more about it than Scott and probably the rest of the betas because I’ve been pretty much researching this stuff non-stop since Scott was bitten, but I’m like nowhere on the level of Derek or Peter who were born to this stuff or even the Argents. I mean, I do have a copy of the Argent’s bestiary, but that things is in freaking archaic Latin and it’s taking me a while to even get like the basics of the language, so it’s going to be awhile before I can even read the whole thing and…”

“That’s what those pages were from?” Lydia tapped her lip with her pen almost absentmindedly. “Allison had me translate the pages from some thumb drive… about the kanima.” She tilted her head to the side as her gaze fixed on Stiles again. “How does Allison’s family fit into all of this? They were in the garage that night… Her father and her grandfather with Jackson…”

“The Argents are Hunters,” Erica said, a bit of a growl to her voice. And, yeah, Stiles supposed he didn’t really blame Erica for holding a grudge there. He had a bit of a grudge against the family himself, especially Gerard. And he and Allison were going to have to discuss a lot of things about the night Gerard had kidnapped him before he was completely cool with her again. It was going to make things awkward next school year to say the least…

Lydia looked from Erica to Stiles, obviously waiting for his confirmation, so he nodded. “There are werewolves out there, born ones like Derek and Peter and bitten ones like Jackson, Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac.” He held up one hand. “Werewolves, kanima, wendigo, druids, witches, sparks, kitsune, vampires, and a whole bunch of other supernatural stuff.” Stiles held up his other hand in a balancing kind of motion. “And then there are Hunters, like the Argents. Some of them are supposedly only after the monsters that go bump in the night and eat people and stuff, but others like Gerard and Kate are just fucking crazy murders.” Stiles let his hands fell and shrugged.

“And you have a copy of their bestiary?” He recognized the booklust on Lydia’s face.

“Made myself a copy when we had Gerard’s thumb drive.” Stiles grinned at her. “I’ll give you a copy if you help me translate it.”

Lydia nodded. “Deal.”

“Hold up a second,” Erica called waving her hands in between the two of them. “Vampires are actually a thing? Like a real supernatural thing?”

Stiles blinked at her. Sometimes he forgot what it was like to be surprised by this shit. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Confirmed that in the bestiary and through a second, reputable online source.” He shrugged. “No sparkling and a lot rarer than popular culture would lead you to believe, but they still do the blood sucking and no sunlight thing. Garlic is apparently not accurate though. Kinda like it’s not actually silver bullets for werewolves. The garlic thing was actually invented by Bram Stoker, probably cause it does repel mosquitos, which, you know, also suck blood, so there was kind of a connection there and…”

“Anyways!” Lydia tapped her pen against her pad of paper pointedly. “Werewolves, Alphas, explain please.”

“Right.” Stiles shot them both a sheepish grin. He couldn’t help it if he got excited about this stuff. Scott never really wanted to talk about any of it, though. It was kind of nice to be able to just sit down and share. “So, there are three types of wolves,” Stiles began, “Alphas, betas, and omegas…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead. Haven't abandoned the story (or any of my others), just haven't had the brain to write for awhile.

Of all the scenarios Stiles had ever imagined involving being alone with Lydia Martin, studying archaic Latin in her living room had never made the list. Yet, he was indeed here, with a notebook on one side, a dictionary on the other, and the bestiary open on his laptop between him and Lydia. Lydia leaned over as he wrote something in his notebook. She glanced at the screen then shook her head.

“You mean ‘large’ there,” Lydia said, pointing to a word with her pencil. “Grandis means ‘large’, like grande in French.” She leaned back into her seat. “There’s actually a fairly strong linguistic link between French and archaic Latin. It might help to learn some if you want to keep at this.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’ll just add that to my already growing list of things to learn.” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. “My brain hurts. Latin literally makes my brain hurt.” Beside him, Lydia chuckled. When Stiles cracked an eye open and turned to look at her, she was giving him a look of fond amusement. Stiles waited for the rush of crush-fueled love/lust/whatever it was he had felt for Lydia for the past like... decade, to surge up, but it just wasn’t there anymore. Or at least not as strong and… different. 

Something had changed over the last few weeks. Somewhere between the Disney moment of Lydia literally bringing Jackson back to life with her love and their now frequent supernatural study sessions, his crush had faded away. Instead, they were actually starting to become friends. It was… nice. He was getting to know Lydia better than he ever had in the years of crushing on her. And, she seemed to actually enjoy his company now. She had actually invited him over this time.

“Does Jackson mind that we’re spending so much time together?” he asked suddenly. “You two still Skype and stuff, right, even though he’s in England?” 

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Stiles. They do have electricity and working computers in England. We still talk.”

He snorted out a laugh and nudged her lightly with his knee. “I meant the difference in time zones. They’re, what, eight hours ahead of us?” He continued when Lydia hummed her agreement. She typed something on her computer, where she was doing the actual translation of bestiary. It was so much more elegant, and quicker, than Stiles’s scribbled practice in his notebook. “How is Jackson adjusting to London anyways?”

For a moment, Lydia’s hands stilled over the keyboard before she gave up typing entirely. She leaned back into the couch, bumping her shoulder against Stiles’s in a display of casual affection that she never would have before they started hanging out. “His first full moon was rough,” Lydia admitted. “Derek had sent along an introduction for him for some Alpha in London. Some friend of a friend of his mom’s or something. But Jackson…” Lydia sighed. She turned to look at Stiles with a fond, but exasperated expression on her face. “He’s stubborn. He thought he could go it alone. Didn’t need any help from anyone. Until Mr. Whittemore walked into the bedroom and Jackson nearly tore his head off. Like, literally.” Lydia shook her head. “So his parents know about werewolves now and they freaked out. Still kind of are, from what Jackson has said. But, he’s at least talking to Alpha Jones. She seems like a nice enough woman from what I’ve heard. And his parents have agreed to let him come back for senior year. So, there’s that.”

“But, you told him we’re friends now, right?” Stiles pushed. He continued when Lydia raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I really don’t want him to rip MY head off.” He waved a hand between them. “Werewolves can scent who you spend time with so he’s going to know right away that we’ve been hanging out and…”

“Yes, Stiles,” Lydia interrupted impatiently. “I told him…” Whatever else she was going to say was interrupted by a knock at the door. Lydia glanced at the clock before jumping up to go answer the door, which was odd.

And then he realized it was because she’d been expecting someone. Lydia opened the door and said, “Hey, Danny.” Stiles scrambled to close both laptops and his notebook, barely hiding the incriminating documents before the other boy made it into the room. Danny, at least, seemed just as surprised to see Stiles as Stiles was to see Danny.

Danny stopped short in the doorway, looking at Stiles and then at Lydia as she walked past him into the room. “Okaaaay,” Danny began, “when you said you wanted to get together and talk, this was not what I was expecting.”

Lydia shot Stiles an amused glance, pointedly raising her eyebrow at the closed computers. Stiles simply shot an equally pointed look at Danny, but Lydia ignored him. She gracefully sank down cross-legged on her pillow next to Stiles in front of her coffee table. She patted the floor beside her. “Pull up a pillow,” she said. “I wanted to talk about Jackson.”

If anything, Danny looked even more surprised, but he crossed the room and sat down on the floor beside Lydia. “You mean the Jackson that had been acting weird for months, died on the lacrosse field, was suddenly not dead anymore, and left for England without really explaining why,” Danny rattled off. “That Jackson?” Danny leaned an elbow on the coffee table and eyed Lydia curiously.

“I recently learned the truth about what happened,” Lydia said slowly, glancing over at Stiles before focusing her attention on Danny again. “Stiles is here to explain things and he can introduce you to the others later.”

Suddenly Stiles had a sinking feeling where this conversation was headed. “Uh…” He floundered, looking between Lydia and Danny and back again. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Did you join a cult?” Danny asked suspiciously. 

“No, it’s not a cult,” Lydia snapped at Danny before turning back to look at Stiles. “Think of the possibilities,” she said softly. “The pack is missing someone with his particular skill set. Plus, he’s Jackson’s friend. He deserves to know. You would want to know if it were you and Scott.” Stiles’s hesitation must have shown, because Lydia leaned in. Her eyes sparkled viciously, like she knew she had just the thing to make the decision for him. “He could make an indexed and searchable copy of the bestiary for us.” Her voice sing-songed a little at the end like the vile temptress that she was. 

“Fine.” Curse his love of research and reliable technology. The prospect was too good to be true. “But if Derek gets mad this is all your fault. I don’t…”

“Uh, I don’t work for free,” Danny interrupted. He raised his hand, drawing their attention back to him. 

Lydia waved a hand at him dismissively. “I can pay you, don’t worry.”

“And, Bestiary? Really? Is this for some kind of gaming thing?” Danny’s eyebrows were very judgy. Not as much as Derek’s, but then not everyone could be the master. “What does that have to do with Jackson? He hates that kind of stuff.” 

Stiles sighed when Lydia looked at him expectantly. “It’s not a gaming thing,” he explained. “It’s real life. Dude, this is going to sound completely insane, but I can prove some of it so you’re just going to have to believe me on the rest of it.” The look Danny was giving him was not confidence building. Stiles took deep breath. “So… The reason that Jackson had been acting so weird and why he’s in London now is… that he was bitten by a werewolf.”

For a long moment Danny just stared at them. Then his brow furrowed and he pushed himself to his feet. “Ha ha. Very funny,” he said, storming towards the door. “I expected better of you, Lydia.”

“Danny!” Lydia scrambled to her feet, ready to chase after Danny. 

Stiles just flipped open his notebook, scribbled a rune, and pressed his finger to the rune. Danny marched towards the doorway separating the living room from the hallway and bumped into a wall of force. His hands came up slowly, feeling along the wall as if to verify that it was really there, even though he couldn’t see it. Stiles felt Danny push against it. The wall didn’t budge. 

Danny turned to look back at them with wide eyes. “What the fuck?”

Stiles waved his free hand at Danny and then pointed down at where his finger was touching the rune. “Werewolves really are a thing, and so is magic.” He turned to look at Lydia. “This is usually why you bring one of the wolves with you when you do the big reveal.”

Beside him, Lydia sank back down on her cushion with a sigh of relief. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Danny stared at them for a long moment before shaking his head. “Are we trapped in here now?”

“Nah.” Stiles lifted his finger off the rune and closed his notebook. He felt the wall of force dissipate and waved a hand at Danny, not that he actually expected the other boy to leave now. Danny waved his hand through the now empty air where the wall had been. He came back to sit at the table with them.

“So… Jackson is a werewolf,” Danny said slowly. He looked at Stiles speculatively. “And you are…”

Stiles laughed. “Still part of Team Human, just with a little bit of magic. I would be classified as a Spark.” 

“Tell me everything.”

*************

“Don’t be mad,” Stiles pleaded as he pulled open the door to Derek’s loft. He relaxed a bit when he found the room empty except for a very confused Isaac.

Isaac leaned back on the couch and muted the TV. “Uh… Why would I be mad at you?”

Stiles looked around the room but there was no sign of Derek anywhere. He edged a little further into the room, but kept near the door in case he had to flee from an angry werewolf soon. “Not you,” Stiles answered, glancing over at Isaac. “Derek. Where is he by the way?”

“He’s in the shower.” Isaac waved a hand up towards the second floor. He paused the motion, cocking his head to the side as if listening. “Derek wants to know what you did now?” Isaac focused on Stiles again and gave him an amused grin. “His words, not mine. But, really, what did you do?”

“Uhhh…” Stiles glanced up at the second floor. “This is more of a conversation to have in person and fully clothed…” He shuffled from foot to foot, but eventually heard a door open and close upstairs. 

Derek appeared at the top of the stairs fully clothed, but with his hair still fluffy from the shower. He would have almost looked relaxed if it weren’t for the scowl that he had focused on Stiles. Derek held Stiles with his gaze as he walked down the stairs and into the main room. “What now, Stiles?”

Stiles licked his lips. He forced himself to straighten his spine and face Derek. If he was going to be the Emissary for the pack, he needed to be able to deal with angry werewolves. “Well,” he started. “See… Jackson’s going to be coming home for senior year.” Derek blinked in surprise. Stiles continued on before Derek could say anything. “And, you know how Erica and I kind of gave the werewolf talk to Lydia when she was asking cause she’s pretty much been involved in this supernatural stuff at least tangentially for the last couple months? And, you said that was okay, right? Because Lydia and Jackson are dating and Peter fucked with her brain and…”

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice was sharp as he cut through Stiles’s rambling. “Calm down and breathe.” 

It was only then that he realized that maybe he was panicking a little bit. His heart was starting to race in the way that he was far too familiar with lately. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then another. He looked at Derek and just spat it out. “Lydia and I told Danny about werewolves.”

He tensed, waiting for Derek to explode, maybe ram his head against the nearest hard surface like had happened so often in their early acquaintance. Instead, Derek just sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with a kind of resigned expression. “Why?” Derek didn’t even look up when he asked. 

Stiles licked his lips and fidgeted with the strap of his backpack. “Well, Lydia pointed out that if it were me in Danny’s spot… If Scott were bitten and I hadn’t figured it out before him… I would want to know.” He glanced between Isaac and Derek. They were both watching him, but neither of them seemed particularly angry. Stiles shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He met Derek’s gaze when he continued. “He’s Jackson and Lydia’s closest friend. He probably would have figured it out anyways.” He chance a smile, hoping that maybe Derek wasn’t actually going to be mad at him. “And, Lydia bribed me by offering to pay Danny to create an indexed and searchable version of the bestiary.”

Derek blinked in surprise. “He can do that?” Derek’s expression seemed moderately impressed when Stiles nodded. “Huh,” Derek said after a moment. He turned to Isaac. “What do you think?”

Isaac seemed surprised to be consulted. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. “Danny’s solid,” Isaac said. “He’s on the lacrosse team with us, and smart like Lydia and Stiles, but not an ass like Jackson despite hanging out around him so much.”

Stiles was surprised at the compliment to himself in Isaac’s answer, even if Isaac hadn’t even glanced at him when saying it. Somehow that made it even better and more unexpected. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched onto his face. His scent must have changed because the wolves looked over at him. Isaac just rolled his eyes, though it seemed more fond than annoyed to Stiles. Derek shook his head.

“It’s fine, Stiles,” Derek said. “I trust your judgment.”

And, wow, that took him by surprise. Derek actually seemed sincere about it. He shook his head at Stiles’s reaction, but his expression had softened a little bit with a smile threatening to actually show. “Invite him to movie night tonight so that I can meet him,” Derek said.

“Okay!” Stiles pulled out his phone and shot off a text to the new group message he had going with Lydia and Danny. And wasn’t that kind of awesome. Stiles had never had enough friends to do group messages with before. And Danny had jokingly labeled it “Team Human” after Stiles’s throw-away comment the other day. The response came back almost instantly. “Lydia will bring him,” he said, already typing back.

“You can come in and sit down, you know,” Derek said suddenly, pulling Stiles’s attention back to the room around him. Isaac had resumed his TV show while Derek was in the kitchen, pulling the takeout menus from one of the drawers.

Stiles jumped into motion. “Right,” he said as he made his way over to the big table at the far side of the room. He took over the end closest to the TV, which had kind of become his spot whenever they were all hanging out around the loft. Stiles pulled out his laptop and set up his things on autopilot. He glanced over at the kitchen when Derek put in the call for pizza, but waited until he was off the phone to speak. “You know, if you actually got some groceries and some pans, I could cook for us sometime instead of ordering out all the time.”

Derek paused with his hand half in the drawer he was returning the menu to. He glanced up at Stiles, but his expression was once again closed off and hard to read. “You don’t have to do that, Stiles. You know how much we can eat.”

“I know,” Stiles said. He sank down into his chair. His computer gave him an excuse not to look at Derek. “I don’t mind though. I mean I always cook for Dad and myself. And I actually, kind of… like it?” He shrugged. “It might be fun to try out some bigger recipes and not have leftovers for a week…”

“All right…” Derek dragged the word out as if he couldn’t possibly understand someone enjoying cooking. 

“I can show you or Isaac some easy things too…” His computer chugged its way through the boot up and finally allowed him to enter a password. He really hoped the thing lasted through the rest of the school year. He couldn’t afford one right now and he really didn’t want to have to ask his Dad to shell out the money for one either. “If you wanted, that is…”

“I wouldn’t mind learning some,” Isaac said, turning to look at Stiles over the couch. “I used to cook sometimes for my father, before…” Isaac waved his hand as if to encompass the whole supernatural drama, or maybe he was referring to before his dad became an abusive asshole. Either way, Stiles was sure as hell not going to ask him to elaborate.

“Cool,” Stiles said. He smiled briefly at Isaac before turning his attention back to his computer screen. It looked like there had been a bunch of new activity on the supernatural forum he visited and he wanted to read everything. He got drawn into a thread started by what he guessed was a werewolf in South America asking for some advice regarding herbal remedies. Stiles jolted in surprise. He actually knew the answer to the question. His mind was fucking blown by that. The last few months he had been cramming supernatural knowledge into his head, including the books that Deaton had shoved at him when he finally got up the courage to visit. It was actually paying off. He scanned the four responses posted, but none of them had offered a solution. Stiles hesitated for a moment before starting to type his reply. He even included the name of the book he’d learned it from, in case the original posted needed more information. Stiles sat back in his chair once he hit send on the reply and basked in the glory of being helpful, like he might actually be good at this Emissary stuff one day.

He startled backwards, almost tipping over his chair when he found Erica sitting directly across the table from him, staring at him. “Jesus,” he exclaimed as he settled the chair firmly back on four feet. Erica had a positively shit eating grin. He looked around the room to find that Boyd had joined Isaac on the couch, though the TV show had changed to something different. Derek was nowhere to be seen. “Derek, your puppies are trying to give me a heart attack,” he called out, knowing the werewolf could probably hear him anyways.

“You’re fine,” Derek called back. He walked out of the kitchen, carrying a case of soda in one hand and a stack of plates and napkins in the other. Derek didn’t even glance at Stiles before taking a Coke for himself and going to sit in what had become Derek’s armchair, off to one side of the couches and with a little table beside it for whatever book he was currently reading.

Stiles turned back to Erica, who had also snagged a Coke of her own before passing out ones to Boyd and Isaac and setting one in front of Stiles. “You could have just said hello,” Stiles pointed. He popped the top on the Coke and drank it down in several large gulps. 

“We did,” Erica pointed out. “But you were ignoring us.” Erica pouted at him, but Stiles could tell that she wasn’t really hurt. He wished he had something to throw at her. Unfortunately all he had nearby were his books and he would never risk harm to one just to get revenge at her. Looking down at his books did remind him of something though. He glance to the side of the room and… yup, there were the newly installed shelves with the collection of magic books Derek had mentioned he was going to be moving out of his family’s vault. And the Hales having a family vault apparently under the school was another thing that Stiles was completely fucking blown away by. He hadn’t seen it yet, but he could just imagine it. 

“Sorry,” he called to Erica absentmindedly, already out of his chair and halfway to the books. “It’s probably going to be a thing tonight. New books…” He shot an apologetic look at Erica, but she just waved a hand dismissively. She settled down between Isaac and Boyd on the couch. 

“Just means I’ll have to come over later this week to catch you up on all of the gossip,” Erica said.

Stiles glanced at the books Derek had pulled out. They were all old, most of them with leather covers. Some of them even looked like they were handwritten journals. Stiles brain short-circuited for a moment. He couldn’t decide which ones he wanted to read first. He pulled out a tome that looked to be about magic. And then one that was about werewolves. And then a third that looked like it was on mythology.

“Those don’t leave here,” Derek called. He hadn’t even looked up from his book when Stiles glanced over.

With a sigh he put back the book on mythology for later. The other two he took back to the table. He opened up a blank document for taking notes, then cracked open the book on magic. “Oh.” He paused with his hands over the keyboard. He glance over at Erica. “Danny’s been initiated into the secret circle,” he said. “He’ll be here with Lydia tonight.” Erica just shrugged at him, so Stiles took that as his blessing to dive back into taking notes. 

Several pages of notes later, Stiles looked up from where he had been typing away on his laptop as a delicious scent reached his nose. The other end of the table was still empty, so that meant that the pizza hadn’t arrived yet. And, he was sure he would have noticed a stampede of werewolves going past him, no matter how interesting the book on magic was. Something had pulled Stiles away from his frantic note taking though. His eyes moved to his other side, where a to-go cup of coffee from his favorite coffee house downtown waited. He looked from the cup, which had definitely not been there when he had started in on the book, to Peter. 

The werewolf in question was leaning one hip against the table. Behind him, the TV continued to play some movie that he hadn’t even realized the others had started. Lydia and Danny had even arrived at some point, taking up Derek’s second couch. The others seemed to be paying attention to the screen, but Stiles felt like they were maybe a little too obviously not looking in his and Peter’s direction. Except for Derek. The Alpha appeared to be completely ignoring the movie and everyone else in favor of reading his book.

Peter nudged the cup closer to Stiles. He didn’t say anything, but he probably knew that Stiles wouldn’t be able to resist the oh so tempting scents of coffee and caramel. Stiles thought about resisting. But, really, why let perfectly good coffee go to waste. Stiles glanced at Peter before lifting the cup. 

It was perfect.

Stiles closed his eyes and savored the taste and smells. He felt himself relaxing as the sugary coffee ran down his throat. Stiles opened his eyes and looked at Peter. The man’s expression hadn’t changed, except for a slight quirk of his lips. “I’m still mad at you,” Stiles muttered in between sips. And, he was. He could feel himself becoming angry again just thinking about the argument.

“I was out of line,” Peter said, holding up his hands in surrender. Stiles raised an eyebrow in surprise. As weird as Peter had been acting before, hearing him apologize had to be the weirdest yet. He expected Peter to say something else, to try to explain away his behavior. Instead, the man backed away, settling in the empty armchair nearest the table.

Stiles glanced over at the rest of the pack. Erica, Lydia, Danny, and Isaac had given up any pretence of not having been watching. Boyd looked like he was asleep. Stiles narrowed his eyes at them. He almost wanted one of them to ask, just to have a reason to release some of his anger. As one, they all turned back to look at the movie. 

“Popcorn,” Erica said, passing a bowl from the table over to where Lydia was sprawled on the other couch with Danny. 

Lydia glanced over at Stiles as she accepted the bowl, then snorted out a laugh like she couldn’t hold it in any longer. Erica had a moment of surprise before she started cackling out laughter. The noise must have woken up Boyd because his eyes shot open and he gave a muffled snort. The noise set the two girls off laughing harder, Isaac joining in with soft, reserved chuckles. Across the room, Derek shook his head, but Stiles was pretty sure he caught an honest to god smile on the man’s face. 

Whatever tension had been in the room dissipated as the pack settled in to resume watching the movie. Stiles felt himself smiling a little as well. He shook his head as he turned back to his laptop. He looked down at the book he’d been reading, which turned out to be mostly on Druids, and found where he’d left off on taking notes. Stiles resumed his typing. He was able to get through a few more pages before he was distracted by his phone beeping. 

When Stiles glanced at the screen he saw that he had a new text from Peter. He hesitated for a minuted, but decided to actually read this one. 

**Asshole:** Perhaps I can make it up to you? Say by cooking dinner at your place?

Stiles glanced over at Peter. The man met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. He seemed sincere.… Stiles considered changing the man's name in his phone back to something else, but he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for forgiveness yet. He supposed if Peter wanted to bribe him, though, there was no harm in taking advantage of it.

**Stiles:** Fine. But it better be something fucking delicious and fancy as shit. 

He watched Peter, waiting as the text sent. He saw the moment the man got the message. There was a twitch of his lips, like Peter was resisting laughing out loud. Then, his fingers typed out a reply.

**Asshole:** Of course, sweetheart. ;)

He gave up reading when the pizza actually did arrive. Now that his attention had been pulled back to the others, the rush of people moving boxes around was too distracting. Instead he slipped a piece of paper in the book, grabbed a plate full of pizza for himself, and settled down on the couch next to Lydia. It took him a few minutes of watching the movie, some romantic comedy, to figure out what was going on, but it didn’t seem too trite. At least it wasn’t The Notebook.

On screen the female lead was blowing out the candles on her birthday cake, surrounded by her family and friends. “Whose birthday is next?” Erica asked in between bites of pizza. “We should start doing birthday things together. Parties and stuff.”

There’s silence for a moment before Lydia spoke up. “Well, you all know when mine was,” she said. “Jackson’s was June 15th, so that’s past, and Danny’s isn’t until February 9th.”

Erica nodded as she pulled out her phone. “Also February here. The 27th.” She directed that over towards Lydia. When Stiles peered over at Lydia, he saw that she was typing the dates into some calendar app. He guessed that Erica might be doing the same on her phone. “Boyd’s January 15th.” Erica nudged Isaac beside her. “You’re next then, right? September?”

“Uhh. Yeah, September 22nd.” Isaac glanced up at Erica before looking at the Hales and Stiles. “I guess I’m next. Unless Derek or Stiles…”

“Nope,” Derek said as he turned a page. 

Peter’s warm chuckle drew Stiles’s attention. “His is November 7th,” Peter said. He chuckled again when Derek looked up from his book long enough to glare at him. Peter just looked smug. He turned his gaze over to Stiles as he spoke again. “I was born on October 27th,” he said. “And you, Stiles?”

All eyes turned to Stiles. He shrugged. “I’m a couple weeks after Lydia,” he said, not really wanting to remember his birthday right now. This year had been a particularly shitty one. He had to resist drawing into himself as the others continued to stare. Even Derek had started to look at him, as if sensing his mood. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat. “April 8th.”

The others looked away once he answered and Stiles started to relax. “Why does that day sound familiar?” Lydia asked absently as she swiped through her calendar app to April.

“I don’t remember Scott mentioning a party or anything,” Isaac said thoughtfully. “That was right around the lacrosse championships, though, right?” Stiles nodded and hoped that that would be the end of the conversation. 

“Gerard,” Erica said. Stiles couldn’t hold back the flinch. He looked down at his plate, but it was empty so he busied himself with setting it aside on the coffee table. “Oh god,” Erica continued. “That was the day, right? When Gerard brought you to his basement…” Stiles jerkily nodded and thankfully Erica stopped describing it. “That’s awful.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Erica.” He crossed his arms across his chest and then uncrossed them before the pose could give away how uncomfortable he was with this topic. 

“But… Scott’s mom didn’t say anything when we took you to the hospital,” Erica said, either not noticing or not caring how uncomfortable Stiles was, even though Stiles was sure it had to be leaking through his scent by now.

Stiles kept his voice as calm as he could. “I’m sure she was a bit distracted with me going missing and Jackson kinda sorta dying and the whole werewolf thing.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac chimed in, oh so helpfully, “but I was with Scott most of the day, and he didn’t say anything either.”

Stiles shrugged. His arms twitched again, but he turned the motion to reaching for his Coke instead. Which of course was empty. Stiles stood abruptly. He resisted the urge to pace and instead tossed the empty can into Derek’s recycling bin and snagged another pop from the case on the table. Stiles hesitated. Sitting on the couch now was probably going to make him feel a bit caged in, but sitting at the table was probably a bit too obvious of an avoidance. “Scott had other things on his mind. Like Gerard and Jackson trying to kill us all. And we didn’t have plans that night anyways because of the game.”

“But, we didn’t…” Erica began again. 

“It’s not like we were even really friends at the time,” Stiles pointed out. Erica looked a little guilty at that and now Stiles felt even worse. “And you were kind of chained up in a basement at the time…” Which just drew his memories back to the murder basement. Lovely. 

“Your father…” Peter began, cutting off when Stiles whirled around and pointed a finger at him. 

“Don’t start, Peter,” Stiles said. He felt his magic react to his anger. The lights flickered, but Stiles quickly throttled it down. He set his pop down and started to scoop his things into his backpack, only to be stopped by Derek’s hand resting gently over top of his own.

“He was at the game,” Derek said softly, “and then you went missing and Jackson died and there was no time afterwards, right?”

Stiffly Stiles nodded. He set his laptop back down on the table and sank into the seat in front of it. The forums were still open in a browser when he opened up the laptop again. He clicked through a couple threads, using it as a distraction from the others as he calmed down.

“Well, I guess you have a little time to figure out what you want to do for the pack birthday celebration, Isaac.” Erica’s voice was full of forced cheer, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. Soon enough they all drawn back into the movie. Stiles, however, was please to see that he’d gotten a message from the person whose post he’d replied to. 

**HelloLoba03:** Hey! Thanks for that reply! I passed it along to our shaman and they’re already talking about planting more of it in a big patch beside our village. They wanted to know if you had any other recommendations for plants that might be helpful to the pack.

Stiles beamed at the computer screen, all previous discomfort forgotten. He dug into his backpack and pulled out his book of herbs. There were already several pages marked with sticky notes that he had been looking into getting for his own garden. He flipped through them, ruling out the ones that wouldn’t do well in a warmer climate before starting to type out his reply in the forum’s chat window.

**BatmanInTraining:** Sure! Not sure exactly where you’re located at in South America, so you’ll have to double check that these will grow in your climate.

He smiled as he started typing away, giving Loba the name of the plant, a brief description of what it did, and the page number in his book if they wanted to track it down for more information. He glanced up briefly when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was only Peter brushing against him on his way towards the pizza boxes at the end of the table. Peter gave his shoulder another squeeze as he set a plate of Stiles’s favorites down beside his books. Stiles glanced over at Peter as the werewolf settled down into the armchair again with his own plate of food. Then the chat window blinked and he was drawn back into the conversation with his new South American friend.


End file.
